


Snake Salvation

by Footloose



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Atheism, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Deception, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Themes, Paganism, Psychological Torture, Religious Content, Snakes, Torture, Violence, faith - Freeform, illness and recovery of secondary character, snake attack, snake bites, snake handling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/pseuds/Footloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a man of science, but he's willing to admit that belief is a powerful tool in a patient's arsenal against disease.  But faith healing with snake handlers?  Well, if that was what his best friend felt she needed to get better, he would support her.</p><p>The last thing he expects is to be drawn to the mysterious man who intervenes when the faith healing goes wrong and for this encounter to change everything he ever believed in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snake Salvation

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Snake Salvation Art](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/138675) by Amphigoury. 



> [Amphigoury](http://amphigoury.livejournal.com)'s art and the prompt with it dug its fangs deep and wouldn't let go. Although I've veered off from the originally-proposed setup and plot, I tried to stay true to the spirit of the prompt.
> 
> Her absolutely beautiful artwork can be found [here](http://amphigoury.livejournal.com/52762.html). Please visit her Livejournal and give her all the love she deserves. All artwork embedded in the post, including the headers, are [Amphigoury](http://amphigoury.livejournal.com)'s and are used with permission.
> 
> Special thanks to [jsea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jsea/pseuds/jsea) for her thorough and quick beta! Any mistakes or inconsistencies that remain are mine.
> 
>  
> 
> If you suffer from ophidiophobia or ophiophobia (fear of snakes), this fanfic may not be for you. Please be safe.
> 
> * * *

_The one who believes and is baptized will be saved; but the one who does not believe will be condemned. And these signs will accompany those who believe: by using my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.  
_

Mark 16:16-18

Manicured fingernails dug into the meat of Arthur's biceps, and if he hadn't watched Elena paint them red earlier, he'd have thought the colour was his own blood soaking her hands. She was certainly gripping him tightly enough to break the skin.

"I'm so nervous." 

"You don't have to do this," Arthur said, for what was probably the hundredth -- or the thousandth -- time. He'd lost count. His words didn't have any more of an effect now than they’d had for the last few weeks. Elena was stuck on the idea of faith healing, and no matter how many times the rest of their friends tried to convince her that self-proclaimed faith healers were charlatans and con men, she wouldn't be dissuaded. 

Elena stared forward determinedly, her chin up, and led the way to the long queue lining up to enter the church. 

For a place of worship, the building wasn't much to look at. A wooden framework, set more as a rectangle than a square, the rooftop new and mismatched on top of a base with broad slats. It reminded Arthur of a reconverted barn and might have been, once; there were a few cows in the distance, behind a broken-down fence. The forlorn way they stared at the building might have been a trick of light as the setting sun dipped beneath the distant trees and below the horizon.

Arthur tried a different tactic. "It doesn't look like we'll get in."

Elena had wanted to come early to get a good seat, believing that maybe if she were close enough to the front during the sermon, the pastor would call her out for healing. Other people had no doubt been thinking the same thing, because the front doors couldn't have been opened that long ago, and yet, Arthur and Elena were still too far away to read the sign hanging from the roof. They wouldn't be getting to the front at this rate.

A flicker of dismay shone in Elena's eyes. Her voice was almost a whine when she said, "I _have_ to."

Arthur resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair in frustration. He thought he understood where Elena was coming from. The absolute desperation to be healed, the despair that came when every treatment failed. It was difficult enough for Arthur to watch his patients suffer from their illnesses, but when it came to Elena, Arthur was driven to tears.

She had been his friend a long time before she became his patient -- and over his objections in both cases. Sometimes, after an appointment with Elena, Arthur drowned his misery in drink, struggling to deal with his inability to make her better, and with the real possibility that he was going to lose his best friend.

He didn't want to be here, at this church, not when it was a symbol of a last resort when everything else -- Arthur included -- had failed. But he didn't want to lose Elena _more_ , even if it was inevitable that he would, one day. The tumour in her brain wasn't only inoperable. It had stopped responding to even the most aggressive and experimental treatments months ago.

He couldn't bear the thought of having to bury Elena. Nothing would be the same. She made Arthur's apartment look lived-in whenever she dropped by for a visit. No one else would listen to him bemoan his lacklustre love life, or complain how terrible the latest one night stand had been. He was particularly invested in keeping her alive, though he said, once, that it was because she'd sworn to take the secret of Arthur's favourite pie to her death.

It had been a joke, at the time. It wasn't funny anymore.

God _dammit_. He didn't want to lose her. That was the only reason why he supported her when she wanted to try something new. His only rule was that it couldn't be too crazy.

"We can come back next week," Arthur said. When that didn't move her, he offered additional enticement. "We'll come even earlier. Make sure you're at the front of the line, so that you can't not have a turn."

"Stop it!" Elena snapped, pulling her arm away. Arthur felt the loss of contact keenly. When she turned to him, there were tears in her eyes. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line, lipstick bright against her too-pale skin. She closed her eyes tightly. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. I'm not a child! I know what I'm doing. I want to do this. I'm sorry that this place isn't as nice as the sterile little rooms at the hospital, but I don't have any other choice, do I? I'm _dying_ , Arthur. If you can't be here for me, _with me_ , then, go home!"

The couple in front of them shifted and glanced surreptitiously over their shoulder. Arthur wondered if they'd heard the part about _sterile hospital room_. Leon, who had come with Elena a few weeks ago, had warned him not to mention that he was a doctor. It had slipped out when talking to parishioners, and they hadn't cared that Leon was only a psychologist. He'd nearly been lynched for his link to the medical community. 

Shamefaced, Arthur nodded and said nothing more. That seemed to pacify Elena, because she faced forward again, taking in a shuddery breath. When no one turned on him with pitchforks and flaming torches, Arthur figured that he was safe from the devoted churchgoers, at the very least, but --

He glanced over his shoulder just to be certain.

Standing behind them were two men -- both of them in khaki pants and plain button-down shirts. The man on the left had long, wavy hair and was freshly-shaved; his expression was one of patronizing disapproval. The other man was as tall as Arthur, but lean, with dark hair and pale skin. His hands were shoved in his trouser pockets and his broad shoulders were curled in toward his chest in what seemed to be a poor attempt to make himself look small and unnoticeable.

Arthur should have looked away, then, because he had other important things to attend to. Elena was upset to the point of tears, and it was his fault. 

Except, Arthur couldn't take his eyes from the man. He was one of Arthur's wet dreams come to life. Fuck, he'd probably go to Hell for thinking about doing things to this fellow when they were waiting to get into church. It would be well worth it, Arthur thought, because….

His eyes trailed over the man's cheekbones, a plush red mouth, bright blue eyes --

Blue eyes that went cold and hard the more Arthur stared. 

The man's brows pinched together, and he glanced at Elena, then back at Arthur, as if chastising him. Arthur could almost hear him say, _Do something before it's too late, you idiot_.

Arthur knew he should. He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead. He turned to Elena, an apology on his lips, but Elena beat him to the punch, hitting him on the arm. "Oh, for pity's sake, Arthur! This isn't a club, you can't pick up boys here."

Arthur stared at her with incredulity and no small amount of embarrassment.

There was a chortle behind him. The man with the curly hair grinned broadly, as if he'd won the lottery; his friend hunched in on himself, his head bowed, the barest glimpse of a flush on his cheeks.

Elena elbowed Arthur and leaned in. "But if you do hit that, I want to hear all about it. He's really cute," she said. She had probably meant to whisper, but whispering was something she'd never quite mastered, unlike whistling.

Arthur sternly took Elena's arm and guided her forward as the line advanced. He pointedly ignored the choked laughter and the warning hiss behind him.

"Thanks for that, Ellie. Really." Arthur sighed. "And I am sorry for being an ass. I am here with you. Whatever you want. Whatever it takes."

 _Even this_ , he said to himself.

He wasn't a man of faith. He hadn't come to church since he was baptized as a baby, and that had only because it had been what his mother had wanted, before she'd died during childbirth. Arthur wasn't even sure that he was allowed to be here, considering that he was, technically, Catholic.  
 But he prayed that, after everything Elena had been through, from medical treatments to sham miracle snake-oil cures purchased over the Internet, she would find something that would work. 

That this would work.

 

 

The pew was uncomfortable, the barn-turned-church was packed to the literal rafters, and the service was not what Arthur thought it would be. The videos he'd seen online had prepared him for an extreme: sacks of snakes up-ended onto the middle of the floor, men and women wandering into the pile and grabbing whichever one of them took their fancy. He'd half-expected garbled language, heads twisting around in anatomical impossibility, and possibly some projectile vomiting.

Granted, the last two scenarios were influenced by watching late-night movies in the break room at the hospital on rare occasions when it was a quiet night while on call. Lance, who practically ran the emergency department even though he didn't have the title to go with it, had peculiar tastes.

Arthur surreptitiously checked his watch, his shoulders slumping. The service was reaching the two-hour mark, and Arthur wasn't sure how much more he could take. He wasn't a patient man to begin with, but the mass seemed to be endless. Pastor-led prayers, readings from several members in the congregation, ballads and hymns sung in such a cacophonous chorus that the outcome was pleasant to listen to --

But no snakes.

Plenty of sermons about hellfire and corruption, though. A few times, Arthur thought the pastor directed his comments toward him. The foul unbeliever, the unclean, the agent of the devil -- and though Arthur's throat tightened at what were largely undirected words, guilt rose up in his gut and once again, Arthur wondered if he should even be there.

The congregation didn't seem to be concerned about newcomers, and thus far, they'd been friendly enough, greeting Arthur and Elena with unsmiling nods before returning to the serious business of devotion.

As the last _Amen_ faded, and the pastor let the silence stretch. Despite the air conditioning in the building, several women whipped fans out of their purses and swept air into their faces even as they rocked in their seats, their heads bowed, their free hand up in _praise-be_ rapture.

The pastor stepped forward, taking centre-stage once more. Arthur had a hard time taking him seriously -- he wore pleated black trousers and a short-sleeved white shirt under a navy blue vest that glittered and sparkled whenever he moved under the light. His hair was slicked back, comb lines visible through the gel barely hiding the bald spot on his head.

Arthur could smell his cologne from the eighth pew from the altar.

"Many years ago, there were one hundred and twenty-five active snake-handling churches in the United States. Today, there are fewer than fifty practicing congregations and less than one thousand Believers. Our numbers are declining. Why is that? I ask myself this question every day. I struggle with the answer." 

The pastor walked along the width of the raised altar, microphone in his hand, head bowed in contemplation. When he spoke again, it was in short, halting bursts, and the perceived struggle to answer the question was almost theatrical.

"Our critics claim it's because our doctrine hasn't changed in over one hundred years. That Jesus' message no longer applies in these corrupted, modern times. That no one cares about salvation from damnation, and that people don't have the time for the message of God. They want to be part-time faithful, and only when it suits them."

Members of the congregation shook their head and muttered at the shame of some people. Arthur found himself staring at his hands, hoping no one would look at him. He wasn't a practicing Catholic. He shouldn't feel guilty, but he did.

"I look at all of you," the pastor's voice boomed, "I am heartened by the spirituality that lives in you and in everything you do, each and every day. I hear your stories, your struggles, your successes, and my courage is bolstered. And yet, every day, we lose more and more of our members. Is it because our sermons are always the same? That faith is no longer _entertaining_?"

The room bust out with noise. Dissuading scoffs, outraged barks, protestations. The pastor held up a placating hand.

"Of course our beliefs remain the same!" The pastor pounded a fist in the air. "And none of us are here to be _entertained_. We are the True Believers of the faith! We are Pentecostals, receiving the genuine passion of the Holy Spirit! God does not favour one group over another. He favours the individual Believers who accept Jesus as Lord with their mouths, with their hearts, with their souls. It is our absolute faith in Jesus that we are saved, born again in His Grace."

A chorus of agreement rose around the room. Elena's eyes were wide and round and she grabbed Arthur's hand. Her fingernails dug into his palm -- of course they did -- but he couldn't tell if she was afraid, overwhelmed, or excited.

Knowing her, it was all three.

The fervour died down, the pastor waiting patiently until the right moment to speak again. When he did, it was slow, solemn, "We are not at war. Not within ourselves. Certainly not with each other. Definitely not with those of other Faiths. Let them say what they will. Let them think that our old, ancient, out-of-date beliefs are dying out. Let them fool themselves into believing that faith needs to be scheduled into their smartphones! We Sign Followers will have the last laugh. We will not die out. We will endure."

Soft cries echoed through the congregation. Men and women raised their hands in adulation. The silence, this time, was short.

"You are no doubt wondering about the newcomers," the pastor said. Arthur glanced at Elena, realizing belatedly that the pastor wasn't talking about them. He followed her gaze to the other side of the church, tilting his head to see who the pastor was talking about. He couldn't make anyone out, but in the third pew, Arthur spotted the bowed head of the beautiful man he'd seen outside earlier, sitting next to his curly-haired friend.

Elena elbowed him, as if knowing exactly what Arthur was looking at.

"Cenred King. Morgause Gorlois. Let's give this young couple a warm welcome," the pastor said.

Murmurs and light clapping spread through the building as a dark, broad-shouldered man stood up. He was neatly dressed in a short-sleeved button-down and khaki trousers and showed good manners when he offered his arm to the blonde woman sitting next to him. She took his hand and stood up, smiling kindly, and awkwardly straightened her simple floral-patterned dress.

Their clothes were plain and non-descript, meshing well with what the majority of the congregation wore, but the fashion didn't match them. The man clearly wasn't new to being the centre of attention, because instead of a bashful smile there was a cocksure smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief that didn't fit the solemn theatre of church. The woman was attractive, her big eyes made bigger by too-dark eyeliner, and --

"Wow, that lipstick is such a bad shade on her," Elena murmured.

Arthur snorted. He covered it up with a cough and distracted himself by glancing at the gorgeous brunet in the third pew.

Unlike the rest of the congregation, who were welcoming Cenred and Morgause with passive approval, the brunet's eyes were narrow, his brow furrowed, his mouth in an unhappy downturn. His friend's expression was impassive, difficult to read, but he didn't seem pleased, either. The two of them spoke quietly; the brunet nodded, and bowed his head again, as if hiding.

Their behaviour was curious compared to the rest of the crowd, but Arthur wasn't a regular and he didn't know either of the pairs. Maybe they knew each other and there was a blood feud. Maybe they just didn't like strangers. Or maybe --

Elena side-eyed him. "Pay attention."

Arthur turned to the pastor, trying to catch up on what he'd missed. 

"… true Believers," the pastor said. He moved out of the way as several attendants brought square cases with breathing holes up onto the raised platform. "They've been visiting every Church in the United States, and they've come here to share the strength of their faith with us."

The first two boxes were cracked open. The attendants removed the lids and gasped, exchanging strange looks before signalling the pastor. The pastor walked over, peered in, paled considerably, and gave the couple a wary glance before turning to the congregation.

"Brother King and Sister Gorlois have had a long journey to come here. We won't ask too much of them tonight, will we? I know you were hoping for their grace and their blessing --"

Morgause smoothly snatched the microphone from the pastor’s hand, and took over. "We believe in giving unto others what we ourselves would receive in return, to share what blessings we are privileged to give through Jesus, our saviour."

The pastor stared at her in dismay. He turned to his attendants and spoke in low, hushed tones. Apparently not low enough, because Cenred shot them a dark look. The attendants gave Cenred a grave expression before nodding at the pastor’s quiet words, and moved forward. Cenred crouched down just as they were about to pull the boxes away, and plunged his hands inside.

Arthur wasn't sure what Morgause was talking about now, because his attention was riveted on what Cenred was doing. Cenred's mouth moved, but Arthur couldn't make out the words. He slowly drew his arms out of the box and stood up, but when he did, a snake came out with him.

The congregation gasped. The pastor moved forward, but several men and one woman from the front pew moved up to the raised platform, crowding the pastor and his men out of the way. Music came from somewhere -- lively, peppy, choir music -- and Cenred raised the snake over his head.

The snake reached down toward Cenred, tongue licking air. It squirmed, body slithering, and Arthur couldn't tell if the snake wanted to bite Cenred's face off or if it was trying to get away.

"Arthur," Elena said, grabbing his arm.

Arthur didn't answer. He was afraid to breathe. The congregation didn't seem to know what to think, either, because many of them glanced amongst themselves. There were more gasps and whispers when Morgause dropped the microphone and helped herself to the contents of a second box.

Where the snake in Cenred's hands was notable for a brown, yellow, and black patchwork of dots and a strange, horned nose, some two feet long, Morgause's snake was slim and bright, with rings of yellow on black and yellow on red.

Arthur swallowed hard. He didn't know what kind of snakes they were, but a rhyme came to mind -- _red touch black, safe for Jack. Red touch yellow, kills a fellow_. The snake Morgause was holding -- that she was _dancing_ with -- was dangerous. 

Extremely so, if the way the pastor was eyeing them.

Slowly, the congregation relaxed, some more quickly than others. The men and women who had joined Morgause and Cenred on the stage also raised snakes in the air. The other snakes were smaller, slighter, less remarkable.

Arthur glanced at Elena. Her mouth quirked with either mortified awe or twisted delight -- he wasn't sure which. The regular churchgoers' expressions were of dedication and surrender that only grew more pronounced with every sway of their bodies. 

Arthur wasn't sure if he should be horrified or terrified. His body decided for him and his racing heart and sweaty palms clearly signalled he was a healthy measure of both. In principle, he'd known that snakes would be involved, even though everything he'd read on the Internet promised that snakes were very rarely part of a standard sermon. He'd watched videos, just to prepare himself in case it happened, but it was different watching the scene unfold right in front of him.

He looked around the room in search of a measure of sanity. He saw it in the eyes of the pastor, who was doing his best to hide his fear. In the way that the regular church attendants held themselves, stiff, tense, as if ready to dodge or to run. In the grimace of the curly-haired man in the third row on the other side of the church, and in his friend, whose jaw was clenched in barely-restrained rage.

Minutes passed like this. Watching the two dance centre-stage was mesmerizing, like a train wreck in slow motion. Every time Arthur thought something was about to go wrong the situation righted itself into a new normal, catching him up in the energy. The congregation rose to their feet, swaying and singing, and even through the cacophony, Arthur could hear Morgause and Cenred talking, talking, talking, but it wasn't clear. It wasn't English. 

Before Arthur fully registered how it happened, Elena had vanished from next to him. He didn't spot her until she was almost at the front, surrounded by more attendants. Several men and women worked their way up the aisles, inviting people forward -- the visibly sick, the infirm. Elena must have been looking for the first indications that they would be bringing people up to the raised platform, because she was already at the head of the queue, nervous and excited. She looked back, smiling widely, and shot him a furtive thumbs-up.

Arthur gaped at her. He slid down the row, excusing himself as he stepped on toes, apologizing as he struggled to squeeze through a generously built couple, but by the time he reached the aisle, there was no getting past the crowd that had accumulated.

"Damn it, Elena," Arthur said, ignoring the reproachful glare he received from a nearby woman.

He stood up on his toes for a better view. He knew what would happen next -- the videos were very clear on this part, but so were all the web sites that claimed snake handling and faith healing was nothing but a sham. The attendants would find people who looked less sick and bring them up to the platform. The snake would be waved in the air far from the person, the Believer would put their free hand on them, there would be some elaborate declaration of faith and an over-the-top declaration along the lines of _feeling the Holy Ghost working through me_ , and the newly-healed person would be flung away.

The videos he'd found were so cheesy. Live and in person, there was nothing cheesy about it. Arthur wasn't even at the front of the line, but he was really fucking frightened.

The attendants positioned Elena in the middle of the platform. She pulled at her dress, offering people a small smile. Another attendant stepped up behind her and murmured quietly in her ear; suddenly, Elena stood stock still, her expression intense and unwavering.

Arthur tried to push forward again, but couldn't. If the pews in front of him weren’t full of people, Arthur would have seriously considered climbing them to get to Elena. He was trying to find a way around everyone when he noticed that the crowd's mood had changed from adulation to apprehension. They began to shift away from the front, murmuring quietly amongst themselves.

Arthur looked toward the front of the church and promptly had a heart attack. Cenred's free hand was on Elena's shoulder, holding her in place. He waved the hognosed snake in the air in sweeping circles. To Arthur, it didn't look as if he had a firm grip on the snake. It might be a matter of perspective, but there was no way that the snake wasn't uncomfortably close to Elena.

The congregation seemed to realize that too. They froze uncertainly before retreating down the aisle, giving Arthur an opening to break through. He fought the tide, but he hadn't gone more than a few steps before a strong hand held him back.

It was the curly-haired man that had been in line behind him on their way into the church. He shook his head firmly. 

This much closer to the raised platform, Arthur could clearly see that the horned snake was definitely too close to Elena. And worse than that, it was agitated, its mouth open, tongue tasting air.

Arthur tried to break forward, but the hold on his arm was unyielding. He was yanked into the pew next to the man, and that was when Arthur noticed that the other man with the blue eyes and the cheekbones wasn't in the pew anymore. Arthur pulled at his arm again, trying to get free.

"Don't," the curly-haired man said, his voice low. "Act natural. If you interrupt, they're going to take it personally. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ will see you hanged."

"But Elena --" Arthur noticed the curly-haired man's friend, now. He was close to the platform, positioned at an angle. The attendants weren't paying attention to him, but he looked ready to surge forward.

"Look, I'm not happy that she's up there, either. Your friend's awfully sweet," the bearded man said. Arthur's glance flicked to him, and he received a wan, wry grin. "But she'll be okay. Merlin will make sure of it."

He nodded toward the man near the platform. Merlin looked no different than the other revellers, with their hips swaying, and arms up in the air, except that there was no worship in his expression. 

Arthur cried out, alarmed, when the snake lashed out. It wasn't a strike, not quite. The snake drew back as if it had been a feint. Arthur's cry was drowned out by the music and the crowd. Elena tried to move away, but the attendants had shifted position to stand behind her and were trapping her in place.

"Son of a bitch," the man next to him muttered.

Cenred pulled the snake back. Arthur enjoyed an elusive moment of relief that vanished when Cenred came in even closer. The snake coiled tightly, tensed for a strike --

It struck.

Time stopped. 

The music continued to play in the background. The congregation toward the rear of the church didn't pick up on the startled shock from the front and continued to sway and dance. Bit by bit, like a wave crashing on a breakwater, the entirety of the church stilled.

The attendants stood frozen in horror. Elena stumbled backward, breaking free of the altar and falling from the platform with an ungraceful thump. Standing nearly in the same place where she had been was the curly-haired man's friend.

The snake had struck. Its mouth was wrapped around Merlin's forearm, fangs buried deep in soft tissue and muscle.

"Oh, _Jesus_ ," Arthur whispered. 

Everything came crashing down on him at once. The snake handler didn't know what the fuck he was doing. The snake had very nearly bitten Elena. Elena could have _died_. Snake venom came in four different varieties. Neurotoxic. Cytotoxic. Proteolytic. Hemotoxic. Some were fast acting. Others allowed a measure of time to pass before the damage was irreversible. There was a limited window in which the proper antivenin -- if one existed for a particular snake venom -- could be administered with any hopes of saving the victim.

Arthur had only ever treated one snake bite in his entire medical career, and that had been years ago, when he was an emergency room resident. A hiker had gotten bitten in the calf by a copperhead snake. It had been non-fatal, the patient recovering with only some muscle atrophy and severe scarring.

Somehow, Arthur didn't think that the hognosed snake bite would be as easy to treat, but he went through the procedure in his head, anyway. He was only dimly aware of trying to rush forward, and of being held back.

The music stopped abruptly and the gravity of the situation sank in.

Snake strikes were lightning-fast. In and out, just like in the old Western movies. Familiar ghost rattling, an alarmed snake, the camera too slow to record the movement.

The hognosed snake's teeth were deep inside the man's arm. There would be no easy withdrawal, and the snake knew it, too. Its long body thrashed with increasing viciousness, loops of its tail whipping Cenred. Cenred released the snake hastily.

Arthur feared what would happen if the snake's full weight rested on the two fangs in Merlin's arm. He half-expected severe tearing, blood loss, death.

Merlin caught the snake's body, calm as he pleased. The snake continued to squirm and struggle. 

Strange sounds came out of Merlin's mouth. A low hiss, tongue clicks, syllables stretched out with a seductive sibilance. Slow and languid, the words -- if they were words – soothed the snake. It relaxed its tight coil and no longer fought to get free. 

Merlin looped the snake's body around his arm to support its weight. He put forefinger and thumb on either side of the snake's head, in the corners of its jaws. He pulled the fangs out of his arm with slow gentleness, as if he were intent on doing the snake no harm.

The wound didn't bleed. A drop of milky white venom trickled down Merlin's arm to the ground.

Merlin's eyes inexplicably flashed gold before returning to their natural deep blue. He spoke to the snake again in that strange string of hisses and clicks before placing the snake into the box.

He kept his head down, his cheeks red as if fully aware of the attention on him, but rather than to turn to the congregation and deliver some rousing speech of faith and salvation, Merlin purposefully strode across the platform, jumping down the steps, and crouched next to Elena.

Merlin touched Elena's cheek with his hand. His eyes flashed at the contact. His lips moved, but whatever he said was too quiet for Arthur to make out. Elena shook her head and offered him a shy smile. When she managed to stand with his help, it was on shaky legs.

"It's going to get nasty. Get your friend and go," the curly-haired man whispered. "Go now."

 

 

"No," Lance said just as Arthur opened his mouth, "No one has come into the ER from a snake bite since you last asked me. An hour ago."

Arthur's jaw clicked shut. Switching tactics, he snorted and said, "I was going to ask if you wanted a beer."

The _Rising Sun_ was packed to the gills with regulars. Cocky day traders from the towers several blocks over stayed on one side of the bar, rarely -- if ever -- mixing with the doctors who filed in after their shifts. The divide was obvious if one looked for it, and threatened to grow wider whenever one of the Financial Sector drunks stumbled over and hit on one of the young doctors or nurses.

"A beer, huh?" Lance asked, his eyes narrow with doubt. 

"I can't buy my friend a beer?" Arthur asked. 

"When have you ever?" Morgana scoffed. She sat on the other side of the table, sipping her martini. In her grey tailored two-piece pencil skirt and jacket, expensive Louboutins and perfectly coifed hair, Morgana could easily pass for one of the day traders who infested their bar. The truth was far, far worse. As the lead lawyer for the hospital, Morgana was just as cutthroat as they were.

Perhaps more.

"I'm reconsidering the error of my ways. If there's something I can do to make my colleagues' days better, excepting you, Morgana, I'll do it," Arthur said.

"Lies," Leon declared. He turned to Morgana and thumbed in Arthur's direction. "This one's been asking after any reports of snake bites in the last week. More specifically, from the night he went to that faith healing thing with Elena."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "You're still on about that?"

"Well, excuse me for feeling massively guilty after leaving the guy to _die_ from a venomous snake bite," Arthur groaned, putting down his beer. 

"You should be pleased with yourself," Morgana said. "You did the right thing, getting Elena out of there before the situation became untenable."

"Untenable," Arthur mocked. "You're just happy I didn't get the hospital involved."

"The last thing the hospital needs is another high-profile lawsuit," Morgana said. "We're still trying to sort through the media circus from Agravaine's botched surgery and actually move the litigation to court. The sooner we're done, the better. There's always a reporter snooping around the offices -- it's really fucking annoying. Who knew Tristan had all those media connections?"

"Isolde was old money," Leon reminded her.

"Oh, right," Morgana said. "Old money and ties to the nobility. You'd think they were rock stars for all the attention they're getting. It's going to make jury selection difficult."

"I'm going to ignore how callous you sound, because I know, deep down, that you care about the welfare of our patients," Arthur said. He turned to Lance while she spluttered. "Would they even have sent him to us? Should I have called a special treatment centre?"

Lance exhaled patiently and crossed his arms over the table. He gave Arthur the best long-suffering look he possessed -- the same one he used on his residents. In a patient tone that _grated_ , he said, "The Albion Health Services Unit is the only treatment centre over seven boroughs. If, on some rare occasion, a dumbass hiker gets bitten by a rattlesnake or, say, some religious snake-healer fanatic decides to do the equivalent of taking a bullet for someone else, we are equipped with antivenin for twenty different species of local snakes."

"But no exotic snakes," Arthur challenged.

"No exotic snakes, no," Lance admitted grudgingly. He looked sorry that he'd even brought it up.

"I checked. We don't stock for pit vipers. We'd have to call in for antivenin from Mexico. Probably _Brazil_ ," Arthur pointed out. He might have been a little obsessive for having spent hours on the Internet trying to figure out what species had bitten Merlin. He was nearly certain that it was a hognosed pit viper, and the fact that there were few, if any, documented deaths attributed to this snake did not allay what he considered to be justifiable concern.

Lance groaned and rubbed his face in frustration. He dropped his hands and gestured around the table. "Someone tell him that his latest love interest is alive and well."

"Your latest love interest is alive and well," the entire table echoed flatly. Morgana smirked at him. Arthur ignored her.

"Hey, guys. What are we talking about?" Gwen asked, sliding into the booth. Lance wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

"Arthur's crush," Leon said. "Whose name he doesn't know, because he didn't have the decency to stick around and make certain that he didn't die, never mind get his phone number while he was at it."

"I know his name," Arthur protested. He immediately regretted the admission when Morgana raised a brow and quickly amended, "I don't know his last name. But there can't be that many faith-healing men with a knack for snake handling that have dark hair and blue eyes named Merlin, can there?"

He didn't mention having attempted that very same web search multiple times, with different variations thereof, only to come up empty.

"Merlin?" Gwen asked, shrugging out of her coat. A little frown marred her brow. "Are you sure?"

"That's what the other bloke said, right before he told me to take Elena and to go," Arthur said, sipping his beer. He tasted the Guinness on his lips before asking, "Why?"

"Um," Gwen said, her eyes bright. She fished around her purse. She came up for air with her phone and tapped at the screen insistently. "I don't know about faith-healing, but I know a professor of herpetology at Camelot University. His name's Merlin. Doctor Merlin Emrys."

She turned her phone to show the screen. The University web site loaded, pointing at a staff page. Dark brown hair tousled, cheekbones accentuated by a big smile, bright blue eyes sparkling behind a pair of black-framed glasses --

It was him.

In the photo, Merlin was wearing a soft-grey button-down shirt under a dark burgundy cardigan, which suited him a lot better than the ill-fitting shirt he'd worn at the Church.

The phone was snatched out of Gwen's hand, jarring Arthur out of his admiration. He thought he'd imagined Merlin, but he was real, and still gorgeous. 

"He's cute," Morgana said, approval in her tone. "Definitely Arthur's type. How do you know him?"

"Oh, I've never met him," Gwen corrected. "One of his grad students is working on characterizing King Cobra venom. She wanted my opinion on using a specific type of toxin to arrest neurological disorders and how to test it without actually injecting it into patients. Merlin is the one who called to set up a meeting last week, but he never showed. Freya said he was called away. Something important."

"Oh," Arthur said, both at a loss for words and hungry for more information. "Emrys? Merlin Emrys?"

"That's his name," Gwen said, smiling knowingly. She thanked the waitress who delivered her drink, her expression turning serious. "Arthur, have you seen Elena lately?"

"Elena? Is she all right?" Arthur asked, sitting up straight. He took a moment to tuck the name _Merlin Emrys_ and _Camelot University_ in the back of his mind before it was drowned beneath a tidal wave of concern.

Gwen's grimace was tiny. Arthur would have missed it if she weren't so terrible at hiding what she was thinking. "Okay. You didn't hear it from me. But she didn't show up for her appointment. My office has been trying to reschedule with her, but she's not answering her phone."

"Oh, for --" Arthur took out his cell phone and checked his messages. There wasn't anything from Elena. He punched her contact and pressed the phone to his ear. "I spoke to her yesterday. She seemed fine. She wanted to meet up for dinner later this week -- Elena? It's Arthur --"

Arthur frowned when he was sent straight to voice mail. He grabbed his jacket and nudged Lance to let him out of the booth.

"I'll head over, make sure she's all right," Arthur said, already dreading the worse. There wasn't much that they could do to treat the tumour and her current medical plan was designed on making Elena's life as comfortable as possible. The drug regimen was strict and Elena followed it down to the letter, but sometimes, there was no managing the seizures.

Arthur was surprised that the stress of the near-miss at the church hadn't triggered one. What if she had had a delayed reaction and had seized? What if she was --

"I'll go with you," Leon said, standing up. He kissed Morgana on the cheek.

"Breathe," Lance said, giving Arthur a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure she's fine."

 

* * *

 

Elena was more than fine. She was baking. At first, Arthur thought that the sugary-sweet smell was coming from Elena's next-door neighbour, but cinnamon-caramel belonged to Elena's trademark pie, and she would never share that recipe with anyone.

Arthur exchanged glances with Leon, who raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Arthur knocked on the door.

Inside, something beeped. Over the ambient sounds of the television blaring in the background, Arthur made out the rustle of clothing, a quiet yelp of surprise, and a distracted, "I'll be right there!"

"It's Arthur," Arthur said, already checking his key ring for the key to Elena's apartment. "Leon's with me. Can we come in?"

"Oh my God! Arthur! Come in!"

Arthur glanced at Leon. Elena didn't sound the least bit anxious, alarmed, or in pain. If anything, Arthur would describe her tone as _frazzled_ , which was typical of her. Arthur twisted the key in the lock and pushed his way inside.

He was immediately assaulted by conflicting scents -- sugary-sweet cinnamon caramel, pucker-sour cherry rhubarb, buttery crusts with nutmeg and orange undertones. His stomach might as well have been on its knees begging for all that it suddenly started complaining that Arthur never filled it.

"Elena?"

Elena's apartment was a disaster on the best of days, but it was even more so now. The pizza box on the coffee table was a clear sign that she had abandoned her strict diet regimen, but the cans of caffeinated drinks littering every surface spoke of something else altogether. The television set played an Iron Chef rerun in the background, the couch was covered with the comforter that was usually on her bed, and the ridiculous bunny slippers that Elena wore all the time because of perpetually cold feet had been cast aside.

It was very surreal, and not because it was out of character for Elena. It was _exactly_ like Elena to be operating at super-high efficiency, extremely focused, highly distracted and thoroughly dishevelled, a forgotten comb stuck in her hair. 

Except Elena hadn't been like this for years. Not since before her diagnosis.

"I'm in here!"

Arthur followed Leon down the hall. He nearly crashed into Leon, who had stopped short. Arthur didn't blame him, because the sight of the kitchen was something to behold.

The kitchen table was covered with Tupperware bins full of fresh-baked cookies and a dozen different kind of pastry bars. Fresh-twisted croissants were cooling on a tray precariously balanced on top of an open box of oatmeal cookies. Pies, pies and more pies were tucked on every conceivable flat surface that wasn't already occupied by bowls, measuring cups, and ingredients.

And then there was Elena, beaming at them. Her hair was tied back in a loose, lazy ponytail, her shirt and pyjama shorts were smeared with batter and chocolate. A light layer of flour coated her arms from her fingertips to her elbows and smeared across her cheek.

"I baked!" she announced unnecessarily, ridiculously pleased with herself.

Creeping alarm flared, and Arthur burst into action. "Leon, shut off the stove and the oven. Put away anything that might spoil. Elena, come with me, let's get you cleaned up and to the hospital. I want to run tests."

"But why?" Elena asked frowning. She batted at Arthur with a spoon until he took it out of her hands and pushed her toward the bedroom to get dressed. "I feel fine. No, that's not the right word. I feel _wonderful_ , Arthur."

"That's what I'm worried about," Arthur said grimly.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur scratched the back of his head, turned up the resolution on the scan, and leaned in close, lifting up his glasses. When that didn't change what he saw, he put the glasses back on and examined the topography that way.

"Do you see something?" Gwen asked. She sounded nearly as confused as Arthur felt. "Because I don't see anything."

"I think…" Arthur trailed off and tried something else, tapping the roller ball on the console until he zoomed out entirely. He re-selected the area where Elena's tumour had been well-established, and zoomed in again.

He flipped to an earlier scan, which had been redone because, _surely_ , there had been a glitch in the machine. They'd repositioned Elena, indulged her by blasting AC\DC over the speakers, and pressed on the technician until they had a second scan.

The technician, long since frustrated with the two of them, had thrown up his hand and announced that he was on break, and had left them a half hour ago while they figured out what they were looking at.

"I've got nothing," Arthur admitted finally.

Arthur, like Gwen, was very, intimately aware of the size, shape, and location of Elena's tumour. They'd been tracking its progress for years, ever since it was first detected, already too large and firmly ensconced in Elena's brain to be safely removed. Arthur could recite Elena's treatment plan by heart, right down to the exact chemical formula of the experimental drug they'd attempted when everything else ceased having an effect, so he was fairly certain that he wasn't imagining things.

On the other side of the glass partition, Elena's toes wriggled to the beat of the music piped through the speakers. The camera inside the instrument was fixed on her face, where she was bright-eyed but bored in a cranial enclosure intended to keep her head from moving. 

Arthur tapped the microphone. "Are you all right in there, Elena?"

"You know how much I love this stupid coffin," Elena said, her enthusiasm completely faked, but the energy in her voice was real. "How much longer are you going to keep me? I'm pretty sure the dough for my cinnamon rolls is ruined by now."

"I'll buy you a new bag of flour," Arthur said. "Just a few more minutes."

"Promises, promises," Elena mocked. Arthur cut off whatever else she was about to say by releasing the microphone, and turned to Gwen. Gwen flipped through the latest blood tests results. Arthur had had them rushed through, circumventing usual hospital protocols by threatening to send Morgana after the head of the department. There was a slim chance that, in rushing things through, they'd made a mistake or had mixed up the vials, and Arthur debated the merits of getting on the technicians' bad side by asking them to repeat the tests.

"Anything?" he asked Gwen.

Gwen's eyebrows shot up. "Well, she definitely overdid it with the caffeine drinks, her protein levels are low but in the normal range, and she could use a good night's sleep, I think, but…"

Arthur snatched the folder out of Gwen's hands and looked at the numbers for himself. He already knew what they said; he'd read them while waiting for the first scan. He didn't see anything different in the results, though, and threw the papers on the console. Leaning back in the chair until his back popped, Arthur sighed and rubbed his face, shoving his glasses onto his head. He waved a helpless hand in the air. 

"According to all this, she's never been sick," Arthur said. The words felt bitter and dirty in his mouth and he didn't like the taste at all. Years of scans and test results couldn't have been a _mistake_. Duplicate measurements performed in the same day showing that Elena was healthier than any of them couldn't be a mistake, either, but when this new data completely contradicted the carefully-collected archive, that was…

Impossible.

Morgana was going to hate this. She was going to hate it _so much_. A shark could sense a drop of blood in the water from a mile away; it was no different with malpractice lawyers. If one of them got wind of this and convinced Elena that she had a viable suit against the hospital --

He turned to Leon, hoping he had some insight. Leon leaned against the low counter at the far wall, his legs out, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a grim look.

"Well," he said slowly, "If I didn't know Elena so well, I'd probably be asking why you're wasting my time with a perfectly healthy patient showing no signs of psychological delusions. At most, I'd probably counsel her to take it easy with the late-night baking sprees and to ask her to send me one of those pies."

Arthur rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and his thumb. He dropped his hand and gestured. "But since you do know Elena…?"

Leon opened his mouth to say something. He clamped it shut a second later, his eyes darting to the side as if in deep thought. His lips pursed, and when he finally spoke, he parroted Arthur's earlier statement. "I've got nothing."

Arthur sighed. He turned around and watched Elena through the glass. The music had changed during the conversation, and Elena's toes and feet bobbed to the beat. Hesitatingly, he hit the microphone again. "Elena, a nurse will be right in to help you out. Can you get dressed and find me in my office, please?"

"Sure thing," Elena said. The camera pointed in her face showed that she was absolutely unconcerned.

Arthur turned to Gwen. "Do you have a few minutes to talk to Elena with me?"

Gwen glanced at her watch. She shrugged. "Sure. What's sleep?"

"It'll --" Leon's chortle interrupted Arthur's agreement. He turned around and saw Elena wriggling herself out of the scanner, and it was so typical of Elena -- _old_ Elena -- that a smile spread across Arthur's face and a tiny, tiny part of him decided, yes, maybe she was cured.

But how?

He tried very hard to come up with an explanation as he and Gwen walked to his office, suggesting possible diagnoses and options that the other shot down. Arthur might be one of the foremost oncologists in his field, and Gwen was a world-class neurosurgeon, but this wasn't an easy one to explain away. 

Gwen took his arm and pulled him out of the way of an orderly passing by. There was a thoughtful, if horrified, expression on her face as she glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. "I hate to say this. I really do. I'm mortified that I even thought of it, because it's _Elena_. But… What if… what if she's been faking all along?"

Arthur stared at her with raised eyebrows, but he couldn't fault her for the thought. It had occurred to him. But they had all known Elena nearly their entire lives, and she was the sweetest person they had ever known. Fraud, trickery, running a con? That wasn't in her nature. Hell, she couldn't keep a secret to save her life, unless the secret in question was one of her famous pie recipes.

"Oh, my God. I can't believe I said that out loud. I'm sorry, Arthur. Forget I said that. Please, oh please, don't tell Elena --"

Arthur caught Gwen's hands and shushed her. "It's all right. I'm embarrassed to admit that I thought it too. It's like Leon said. If it were anyone else, that's the first thing I'd think of. But it's Elena, and we both know that she isn't like that at all."

Gwen sighed, nodding in agreement, but the guilty look stayed on her face. Arthur didn't want Elena to see it -- she'd think that something was wrong and panic unnecessarily. He patted Gwen's shoulder reassuringly.

"We don't have anything to tell her, not really," Arthur said. He sighed. "Why don't you go home? I can handle this on my own. At the most, I'll ask her to come in again in a few weeks for more tests, just to monitor."

He winced inwardly, already knowing how Elena would react if he asked for more tests. She wouldn't take it at face value. Lying to her about a possible problem with the scanner would only make her panic more. But he honestly couldn't think of anything else that he could possibly say.

"Are you sure?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah," Arthur said. He saw a familiar blond hair approaching from down the corridor. "You should go, I see her."

Gwen squeezed his forearm and left, escaping past the nurse's station. Arthur waited to let Elena catch up to her, and he grunted unhappily when Elena twined her hand through his arm. "Oh, shush. You know having a beautiful woman on your arm helps your image."

"As opposed to having a beautiful man?" Arthur said wistfully, trying -- and failing -- to keep his tone light. The situation weighed heavily on his mind, and he didn't know how to explain that Elena was suddenly, inexplicably _healthy_ without inviting an entire suite of problems. He was beyond thrilled that the tumour was gone -- if it wasn't a scanner glitch -- but he was completely baffled by _how_.

"You should go back to find him," Elena said, blessedly misinterpreting Arthur's puzzled tone for _pining_. Arthur would've protested, but it worked in his favour, distracting Elena from what was on his mind. For the first time since he could remember, she wasn't pushing him for the results before they reached his office.

"I'm not going anywhere near that place ever again, not even if you bribe me with sweets," Arthur said.

Elena made a face. "I'm chalking it up as a life lesson. _Do not go to a church where they wave snakes around for fun_. But it makes for a great story, and I don't regret it. People gawk when I tell them about the snake coming that close to my face."

Arthur snorted, because he could easily imagine Elena using the story to get people to buy drinks for her at the bar. They walked a few more steps before reaching his office, but before he put his hand on the doorknob, Elena twisted his arm around and looked at his watch.

"Oh, is _that_ the time?" Elena said, smacking him on the arm. "If I'd known you'd have kept me this long, I would've told you no. I have a ton of baking left to do before I can go to my interview. I'm going to be late. I still need to pack up those pies, I'm pretty sure I still have those boxes from when I was starting to cater down in the basement storage at my place, but I don't know if I have enough different kind of cookies --"

"Interview?" Arthur asked, because that was the only thing he'd understood from the barrage.

"Interview!" Elena exclaimed, breaking into a big grin. "Do you remember the bakery down the street from my place? They lost their pastry chef last week, and the owner remembers me from when I was catering. That's what I was doing last night! I was baking up some samples, and I _really have to go_."

She pressed a kiss on his cheek and darted down the hallway with a flyaway wave of her hand, slipping into the elevator just before the doors slid closed.

"But we --" Arthur held up the file folder in his hand and blinked repeatedly, not entirely sure what had happened. Elena had always been invested in her own health. She wanted to know everything. She would do her own research and come up with some possibilities that she could try. She would argue with Arthur when he said those options wouldn't be feasible and would want to try anyway. Her personal file documented every result she had ever obtained because she always badgered Arthur into making copies of every test that he scheduled for her, right down to DVDs burned with the image scans that they made.

Last year, Elena had cancelled a large catering gig because she wanted to wait until her latest blood test results had returned from the lab, even after Arthur told her that the lab was completely backed up and he'd run out of favours to ask to push her up the queue. Arthur was completely gobsmacked that today, she hadn't even asked, not once, how her test results were.

Arthur considered asking Leon to make room in his calendar and to convince Elena to have another counselling session. Elena had never been in denial before, but there was always a first time.

He unlocked the door to his office, walked inside, and sat down behind his desk, Elena's results in the cardboard file folder in front of him.

Miraculous recoveries did occur, he knew. A very sick little girl with lymphoma would do a complete turnaround within six months and remain in remission well into adulthood. A man with liver cancer that had metastasized to other organs should not have responded to chemotherapy as well as he had. There were so many similar examples that, even though they didn't happen as frequently as Arthur would have liked, he was willing to classify Elena's condition a miracle, too.

Except he couldn't help thinking that it was a fluke. That all of the hospital's laboratory equipment had decided to go on the blink the exact same day that the scanner developed a blind spot in the exact region where Elena's well-documented tumour was supposed to be.

He strained to think of what Elena might have done since her last tests that would have changed everything. It might have been another crackpot cure-all that she'd bought over the Internet, or maybe she visited a psychic who prepared a special tea for her. Maybe she'd changed brands of vitamins, or her drastically altered food habits had caused a metabolism spike.

Arthur didn't think that it was any of those things, though. Elena would never hide what she was doing, not from him. He never had to ask, either, because she would volunteer the information in the middle of a conversation _as a matter of fact_ , even if it had nothing to do with the conversation itself. If she was taking something different, if she had changed her diet -- Arthur would have been among the first to know.

Ever since her diagnosis all those years ago, Elena's carefree ways had disappeared and she had become a creature of meticulous habit, documenting everything from the temperature of her shower to how many times she'd sneezed during a lengthy bout with the common cold. Her routine had been set in stone for years upon years, and she had never deviated, because otherwise, how could she track the subtle differences that might completely mess up her goal for a healthy and long life?

Arthur racked his memory, trying to come up with something that Elena had done differently, but the only thing that came to mind was that visit to that nearly disastrous faith healing.

A traitorous thought popped into his mind. That whatever had happened at the Church? It had _worked_.

Arthur laughed at himself, shaking his head. It was a ridiculous notion. Yes, faith was a powerful motivator when someone wanted to get well. He would never tell a patient that their beliefs were nothing but a placebo effect, because he had seen it first-hand. But to believe that Elena had spontaneously been cured by a snake-handling faith healer?

It was a preposterous.

Arthur reached for his keyboard and unlocked the computer so that he could type his notes into Elena's file, but no sooner had he gotten past the screen saver, his fingers froze over the keys. 

The faith healer had never made physical contact of any kind with Elena. The snake had never gone anywhere near her. But the snake had bitten someone else, and that person…

Merlin…

Merlin _had_ touched Elena. Afterward, there had been… That trick of light. A flash of gold in his eyes.

Arthur frowned at himself. No. He couldn't possibly be thinking what he was thinking. What made more sense was what Gwen had told him about Dr. Merlin Emrys: a biology professor at the university who happened to be working with venomous snakes for the application of those proteins to medical research.

Arthur hesitated one moment, and opened up his Web browser, typing in Merlin's name. It was, he told himself, for self-defence purposes and no other reason. He was sure that, as soon as Elena remembered that he hadn't told her the results of the tests, that she would ask questions. Since no one had any real idea of how her mind worked, there was a good chance that she might make an intuitive leap, however erroneous, and associate the visit to the snake-handling faith healer as the instigating cause of her miraculous recovery.

If he spent a few minutes staring at the picture of Merlin -- the same one that Gwen had shown him, of a curly-haired man caught in the middle of a laugh, his blue eyes crinkling behind black-framed glasses -- absolutely no one needed to know, especially Morgana. Arthur tilted his head, trying to parse the man wearing a pale grey button-down under a burgundy cardigan with the stoop-shouldered man who had avoided everyone's gaze and who had stepped up to save a complete stranger's life.

He couldn't, which made him wonder why a tenured professor, whose biography included more than fifty papers, would attend a snake-handling faith-healing Church. Arthur refused to believe that someone who wrote papers published in acclaimed journals would have anything to do with that kind of thing. He knew it was very close-minded of him, that he had no right judging someone else's faith, but it just…

It didn't make sense.

He skimmed the list. Merlin Emrys was the first author of a number of papers that triggered unhappy flashbacks to Arthur's medical school days.  
__  
_Snake Toxin Proteins in Cardiovascular Therapy_  
  
_Mechanisms of Rapid-Acting Neurotoxicity in Dendroapsis polylepsis Venom and Potential Treatment Approaches for Delaying Aggressive Oncological Tumours_  
_  
__Controlled Application of Disintegrins in the Therapeutic Removal of Infected Tissues_

 _Nicotinic Acetylcholine Receptors and Their Role in Countering α-Neurotoxins_.

Most of Merlin's research seemed to be focused on the use of snake venom proteins in different medical conditions, but Arthur would have to read the papers themselves and refer to a specialist to determine whether they were relevant or considered dubious. Given that they were published in prestigious peer-reviewed journals, Arthur wondered if perhaps Merlin himself was the person everyone referred to as the specialist.

He stared at the Camelot University logo for several minutes before deciding to find out for himself.

 

 

"Dr. Emrys' office?" Arthur asked. The student barely glanced at him before throwing her arm up in the air and gesturing in a vague and unhelpful direction.

Arthur scratched the back of his head and sighed. It had taken him three days to clear his schedule enough to head over to the university, and those three days did not include the two hours of double-checking that he hadn't made a mistake when transcribing Merlin's office hours, or the aborted detour he had taken with every intention of _just showing up_. But after being yelled at by a student for taking the last parking spot in the lot, receiving convoluted directions from a sour-faced Biology Department secretary, and getting lost for the fourth time in a row even though he was pretty sure he'd seen these exact corridors before, Arthur was willing to throw in the towel.

He wandered a little further, as much to see if he could stumble on Merlin's office by pure happenstance as to look for an emergency exit so that he could escape while he still hadn't embarrassed himself.

Camelot University sprawled over a broad campus that couldn't contain all of it, extending individual schools in different areas of town. At the centre, the brick-and-mortar buildings were in an aristocratic style carried over from England, with tall spires, murder holes, and a moat that had been filled in some ten years prior to put a stop to fraternity and sorority hazing. Newer buildings had tried, in vain, to mimic the style while attempting to enjoin the centuries-old campus with more modern architecture, and the outskirts, where the science buildings were located, were a clever mismatch of steel-frame laboratories and gloomy mad scientist dungeons.

For all that Arthur had completed his pre-med years here, he had never stepped foot in this particular branch of the Biology department. Invertebrate and vertebrate physiology were held in a tiny little classroom building in the basement of the Monmount building, but human physiology, which was a required course across several different disciplines, was held in the amphitheatre. Health sub-disciplines were scattered across several different campuses; Arthur had been relieved when he'd completed his studies and transferred to medical school, where he'd promptly gained the freshman fifteen that he'd lost in his undergraduate years from running frantically between classes.

It seemed a shame that he'd never lifted his nose out of his books to step foot in the zoology section, because it laid out like a natural science museum. The static main entrance with a generic map and dated Faculty sign, had been completely misleading. As soon as he took a left around the bank of elevators and passed through a glass walkway, he was in a life-sized diorama of elephants walking through the Serengeti, the sunset looming in reds and pinks over the horizon.

From the African Savannah to the Australian Great Barrier Reef, to the sweltering Indian rainforests and to the dry heat of the Gobi desert, every imaginable species was suspended in mid-action, the art so vivid that they might as well have been alive. 

Arthur couldn't say that his touristy trip through the Biology building hadn't been at least somewhat entertaining and educational, but he was here on a mission, and --

He jerked to an abrupt stop when he came face to face with a black mamba, an aborted scream in the back of his throat when he realized that it was merely a lifelike replica about ten times the size of the real thing, which, _Jesus fucking Christ_. As deterrents went, this one certainly worked.

"Fucking Hell," Arthur said, glancing around. There were other similar displays, some of them in glass aquarium tanks and _moving_. Small signs were everywhere, announcing the Latin and common names of the snakes, along with a little biographical blurb. 

A big official sign -- _Quiet, molting in progress_ \-- was made more threatening by a sheet of paper with messy handwriting right beneath: _Tap the glass, I dare you, and we'll feed you to the snakes_.

A few meme posters were pinned to the bare walls, proliferating the further that Arthur walked, as if in competition for the best joke. On one of them, a snake was curled around a computer mouse; the caption read, _Silly snake, that's not the mouse you're looking for_. On another, two mice pointed a flashlight on a picture of a snake, which had an arrow pointed to its belly and, _YOU ARE HERE_ on top. There was a cartoon of three cockroaches playing basketball, one of them looking back on two of its legs, which had fallen off. The caption read, _You're getting too old for this_ game. It wasn't particularly funny, but the comment scratched on the paper was: _Wrong department. D- for effort. George, you'll never pass at this rate. M.E._

Arthur wondered if M.E. was Merlin Emrys.

Two students exited a nearby room. Arthur caught a glimpse of snakes in glass cages, several microscopes, and equipment he hadn't seen since his old lab days. "Excuse me, do you know where I can find Dr. Emrys?"

The idle chatter between the woman -- short and svelte with mousy black hair and sharp features -- and the man -- curly brown hair, pale blue eyes, and the unusual capability of going from animated to shut-down in zero-point-two seconds flat -- abruptly stopped. The woman eyed him up and down suspiciously and asked, "What do you want him for?"

"Do you have an appointment?" the man asked.

Arthur looked between them, feeling targeted. It was clear that neither of them were very friendly to begin with, but the territorialism they were demonstrating reminded Arthur of his father's old guard dogs, who were mostly bark and little bite, but dangerous when they opted for the latter.

Inwardly, he kicked himself for not making an appointment, knowing that he'd personally hate it if someone showed up unannounced. He wondered if he could pretend that he did. No sooner had he opened his mouth that the man's eyes narrowed.

"No. Don't even try. We're his grad students, and I manage his schedule. Your face doesn't belong to the names that are in the calendar, and I know that because I've met everyone he's meeting today," the man said.

"Should I call security?" the woman asked, glancing at her friend.

"It's a personal matter," Arthur said, managing not to sound like an idiot when he blurted that out. "I assumed he was free. His office hours --"

He trailed off when the two glanced at each other. Their expressions changed in what seemed to be a silent argument that was quickly settled with the man regarding Arthur with a contemplative look and shrugged a shoulder. "I suppose he could be the guy."

 _What guy?_ Arthur wanted to ask, but decided not to, since it sounded as if the situation might work out in his favour. 

The woman eyed him up and down and muttered, "Well, he's his type. Looks like how Gwaine described him."

Arthur raised a brow, resisting the urge to grin. He didn't know who Gwaine was -- unless he was the man with Merlin that night at the Church. If Gwaine had described him, and Arthur had made enough of an impact on Merlin that his two grad students were reconsidering how rude they were being to a complete stranger, that boded very well for Arthur's other plans, though those had been more ephemeral dreams and late-night jerk-off fantasies. He kept as straight a face as he could in the hopes it would make him appear non-threatening.

The man sucked a tooth as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, nodded unhappily, and jerked his head in the direction of the other end of the corridor. "Down that way, turn left, then right. He's the last door at the end."

"Thank you," Arthur said, because that was more helpful than any other direction he'd received thus far. 

" _Knock first_ ," the man said sternly. "He's in a meeting."

Arthur took the first left and happened to glance back the way he came. The two grad students were still standing where Arthur had left them, staring creepily at him. He kept walking, unexplainably bothered by how neither of them had looked away.

 _Doctor Merlin Emrys, Herpetologist_ was black-embossed on a brass plate mounted on the wall next to a door exactly where the grad students had directed him. A broad bulletin board full of advertisements, journal articles, and job openings -- most of them expired -- cluttered the opposite wall, and there was a schedule taped to the door itself.

Arthur took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock. His movement stilled when the doorknob rattled and the door marginally opened.

"-- and I _promise_ that we'll find them," Gwaine said. "You have nothing to worry about. I'll talk to my boss, get some agents assigned to you --"

"I'm not worried. They don't even know who I am," someone said. Arthur assumed it was Merlin and frowned, because he wasn't sure if he'd actually heard Merlin speak before. Whoever was talking, he certainly sounded exasperated. "They won't find me here, either. Those two didn't strike me as the sorts who frequent my usual social circles."

Gwaine snorted. "If by your _usual social circles_ , you mean your weirdo lab tech, the two Addams family rejects you call grad students, and me, yeah, you're right, you're probably safe. You know, there's more to the world than your little milking zoo, that mountain of papers you keep saying you have to grade, and that shithole you call an apartment. You should go out, make friends --"

"I go out," Merlin said with a scoff. "I mean, just last week I went to church against my better judgment and got involved in a federal investigation against a couple of con men who are, on top of everything else, also accused _murderers_ \--"

A wash of relief that Merlin wasn't some sort of religious fanatic was replaced by fretful worry that he'd put himself in the line of danger. Arthur had to hold himself back from pushing his way in.

Merlin trailed off. A short silence followed, only to be broken by an annoyed, "Oh, come on, I said I was sorry. Let it go!" 

"No. I am going to make you buy all my beer from here on out for the rest of eternity in repayment for the mental anguish," Merlin said, his tone decidedly missing any actual outrage. "When you came to me asking for help, you might've led with that little fact before luring me in by making me think you were investigating an illegal snake smuggling ring."

"Technically, I am," Gwaine said.

"Ugh," Merlin said. Papers shuffled; a soft thump, like a book falling to the floor, interrupted him in mid-grunt. "Get out of my office. Go do whatever it is that you do when your boss thinks you're working. Find the bad guys. _Don't_ assign agents to me on protective details. My students think I'm strange enough already. They don't need more reasons."

A phone rang inside the office.

"I've got to get this," Merlin said.

"Fine, I'm going, but promise me you'll be careful and you'll call me if there's anything out of the ordinary," Gwaine said. 

The door opened wider and Arthur took a desperate step backward, acutely aware that he'd overheard far more of the conversation than he should have. He glanced down the corridor, looking for a place to hide behind, but there wasn't so much as a stray student, one-hundred-times-actual-size plastic snake replica, or palm tree to hide behind.

Gwaine emerged, saw him, and immediately shut the door behind him. Residual mirth in his expression vanished completely, replaced by narrow-eyed wariness. His hand dropped to the gun in his hip holster, just barely hidden by his jacket. "How did you find him?"

"Uh," Arthur said intelligently. He couldn't take his eyes off the gun. He'd seen guns before -- on television, mostly, but never up close and personal. It didn't matter that this particular gun was holstered. Gwaine might as well have been pointing it in his face.

"I asked you a question," Gwaine said, his voice dropping an octave in warning. "How. Did. You. Find. Him?"

"My colleague," Arthur blurted out, tearing his gaze from the gun to stare Gwaine in the eye. Irritation took root deep inside and grew rapidly, and he felt himself prickle the same way he did whenever Morgana put him on the spot. "He contacted her for his grad student's project. Two people with the same first name. I thought that was too much of a coincidence, so I looked him up. His picture is on the university website. Really, it wasn't difficult."

Gwaine's suspicion didn't lessen. "How did you know what his name was in the first place?"

The question rankled. Arthur took a step forward. Gwaine's fingers twitched, but he didn't draw his gun. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I overheard someone _carelessly_ use his real name during an undercover sting."

Gwaine flinched, but his aggression slowly deflated. He relaxed marginally, a tight set to his mouth and a blank expression, as if he were replaying the events of the fateful night at the snake-handling church. When he turned to Arthur, it was with a shrewd glint in his eye. "So, you remembered his name, looked him up, and came here… why?"

"Uh," Arthur said again, this time caught off guard. He had reasons, of course. He even had a legitimate reason -- one that he couldn't remember at the moment despite practicing it several times in his head on the drive to campus. Gwaine's mouth pulled into an amused smirk, and Arthur pulled himself together, unwilling to give the man an ounce of satisfaction. "I'm a doctor. I watched him get bitten by a venomous snake. I wanted to see how he was doing."

"You could've called," Gwaine pointed out, but before Arthur could fumble through an explanation that the other man definitely wouldn't buy, Gwaine opened the office door and stuck his head in. "Merlin?"

"Will -- _calm down_. Hold on a second," Merlin said, his tone transforming from reassurance to annoyance when he answered Gwaine. "What do you want now? I'm on the phone."

"Well, I was thinking, you're right, I was an asshole."

"You _are_ an asshole, no past tense about it," Merlin groused.

"I should make it up to you," Gwaine said.

"Damn right you should," Merlin said.

"Since we were speaking of expanding your social circles --"

"The extent of my interaction with people is just fine as it is," Merlin cut in.

"I thought I should let you know that you've got a visitor," Gwaine said, sounding unbearably smug. Despite the abruptness of their conversation and the threat hovering in the air between them, Arthur found himself liking the man.

"I'm not shocked. I'm a teacher. I've got students. You're monopolizing my office hours -- what? _Oh, for the love of_ \-- No, Will, don't do that! Why on earth -- Kilgharrah doesn't like you, why would you antagonize him by poking him with a stick?"

"Should I let him in?" Gwaine asked.

"What? Yeah, yes, just a second, _no, Will_ , how many times do I have to say it? Don't do that. Stay where you are, stay calm, don't make any sudden movements. _What's wrong with you?_ You've been doing this for years, how is it that you don't know what to do --"

Gwaine pulled himself out of Merlin's office and gave Arthur a stern look. "I don't have to tell you what will happen to you if you break his heart, do I?"

Arthur glanced down at Gwaine's gun before catching himself. "What makes you think --"

Gwaine raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I didn't make Special Agent because I'm oblivious. Anyway, chasing after someone you're crazy about? Been there, done that, married it, six years running so far."

"Uh," Arthur said, and he had a feeling he would be saying that a lot to this man in particular. He clamped his mouth shut, because there was no arguing with the truth, and a traitorous part of his brain rather liked the _done that, married it,_ part of Gwaine's little speech.

"Good man," Gwaine said, his grin big and broad. He pushed the door wide open, clamped Arthur on the shoulder, and shoved him into the office. The door clicked ominously behind him.

The first thing Arthur noticed about Merlin's office was that it was a strange balance of tidily disorganized and in lived-in _shambles_. The bookshelves were heavily laden with books, more books were shoved in every possible configuration to make room, and where there weren't books, there were skeleton replicas -- or possibly the real thing -- of snakes in different lengths and sizes. Arthur thought he saw a frog, at least one lizard, and something he sincerely hoped to never meet in his lifetime thrown into the mix.

In one corner were rolled-up paper posters and travel hard cases. There were three stacks of journal papers on the ground, each leaning on the other for balance but threatening to collapse completely at any moment now. The desk was an ancient monument from another era that took up most of the room, but the guest chairs looked to be as cheap and uncomfortable as the one behind the desk. Two monitors were stacked dangerously next to each other, skirting the precarious edge of the desk, the computer was nowhere in sight, the keyboard was at a slanted angle over student papers and rolling over a handful of pens, while the mouse dangled from its cord, flashing the red sensor light whenever it twirled around.

The chaos wasn't nearly enough to distract Arthur from Merlin, however. He hadn't had a good enough look at Merlin at the church -- that had been impossible given where they'd been sitting, and, anyway, the inherent guilt that was bred into a non-practicing Catholic was enough to keep him from drooling over hot men while in the House of God. He'd studied the sole picture of Merlin that was posted on the university website and bemoaned the lack of activity on the Facebook page he'd stumbled across, feeling like a cyber-stalker while he skimmed the handful of photographs of snakes that were in Merlin's album. 

Sidelong glances from afar and two-dimensional photographs had absolutely nothing on the real thing.

Compared to the clean-shaved, brushed-hair, neatly-pressed trouser-and-shirt of a good church boy from a week prior, the Merlin who stood next to his desk was moderately dishevelled and unkempt. His jaw had picked up a smattering of stubble, his hair warred between _just rolled out of bed_ and _serious professor_ styles, and he wore black-framed glasses that made his blue eyes pop out even more.

The neat, stiff clothes were gone. The university website photo cardigan was nowhere to be seen. Merlin wore worn jeans that looked comfortable, a plain Tee in a solid charcoal shade, and a long-sleeve button-down plaid shirt that was half-tucked into his pants, half-sticking out.

"Put the stick down," Merlin said firmly, somehow managing not to sound exasperated despite the palm of his hand pressed against his forehead. "Just -- put it down. Lift your legs up, stay on the table, and _don't move_. I'll be there in ten minutes -- _fine_ , five. Please don't throw the microscope at Kilgharrah --"

Merlin put the phone on his chest to muffle his voice.

"I'm really sorry, there's a crisis at the lab --" Merlin looked up and trailed off. His eyes went wide with surprise, and that surprise blossomed into a happy smile bright enough to melt Arthur's heart.

Then, abruptly, he took his glasses off, smoothed down his hair, and did a too-late attempt to brush his shirt into place and make himself presentable.

Arthur couldn't help it. He laughed a little. He knew what he looked like, but it had been a very, very long time since he had elicited this sort of reaction in anyone. It made him absurdly pleased in ways he couldn't describe. He lowered his head, suddenly shy and awkward, his stomach tight and flipping over as if he were a teenager who had just encountered his very first love.

"Hi," Merlin said.

"Hello," Arthur said, wincing inwardly when the greeting came out as a blissed sigh. The conversation openers he had practiced on the drive over -- including a double-entendre that had been mortifying to hear coming out of his mouth -- completely vanished. He was at a loss for words.

"Hi," Merlin said again. He cringed visibly, bowed his head in embarrassment, and muttered something that might have been, _Damn it, Gwaine_. He peeked up at Arthur and said, "I said that already."

"You did," Arthur said, grinning.

"And you probably already know my name considering that you're in my office," Merlin said.

"I do," Arthur said, smug. Merlin's eyebrows rose slightly, and Arthur faltered, catching on a second too late. "Oh! I'm Arthur. Arthur Pendragon."

"It's nice to see you again. To meet you, actually. I didn't have a chance --" Merlin walked toward him with his free hand outstretched. He was foiled in the attempt by an aquarium that was, quite improbably, on the floor, and by the short length of his phone, which whipped out of his hand. "-- to meet you the first time."

Merlin scrambled to pick up the phone, pulling it up by the cord.

"Will? Are you still there?" Merlin jerked away from the phone. "Yes, yes. I'm on my way."

Arthur gestured at the phone. "An emergency, right?"

"A _crisis_ ," Merlin said, rolling his eyes. He spoke into the phone purposely, but was talking to Arthur when he said, "I have a lab tech. He's great at his job, he really is, but a lifetime of learning to handle snakes with me from my dad goes right out the window whenever he's around Kilgharrah. It's like he's afraid of snakes or something."

He hung up before Will could answer. He rubbed his hands together and gave Arthur a sheepish look that slowly turned regretful. 

"I should go. I -- sorry. Um." Merlin looked at his desk in dismay before reaching for his glasses. He searched through a side drawer and pulled out a little white card; he found a pen and scribbled a number on the back. "Here. My number?"

Arthur's fingers lingered on Merlin's, chasing after the slight rush of electricity that resulted from the contact. He stared at Merlin, completely charmed by the way the tips of his ears reddened and the corners of his mouth twitched. "I could walk you to the lab."

"You --" Merlin tilted his head to the side, gauging Arthur carefully. "How do you feel about snakes?"

Arthur still had nightmares of that snake lunging at Elena as if she were his next meal, only to bite Merlin instead. He very carefully said, "I have a healthy respect for them."

That was the right answer, because Merlin's mouth spread into a beautiful, relaxed smile. "That's more than most people. Are you sure you want to come with me?"

"Only if you promise not to ask me to help you wrangle snakes," Arthur said. "It's a little out of my comfort zone."

Merlin's laugh was a reward, a prize, a _treasure_. He gestured toward the door, following Arthur out before locking up behind him. "It's this way, down one floor."

They walked to the stairs in a silence that was far too comfortable considering that they had only just met. Arthur was slowly starting to remember his conversation starters, but was systematically crossing them off as unacceptable given the situation.

Merlin beat him to it and asked, "How's your friend?"

"My friend --? Oh, Elena," Arthur said, startling himself. The whole reason for him being here had originally been to follow up on Elena's surprising miracle, to see for himself if there was any weight in the faith healing that was performed by the snake handlers. His original assumption that Merlin was one of the Believers was turned on its head now that he knew that Merlin and Gwaine were working on some sort of criminal case, and he'd forgotten about Elena until Merlin asked. "She's all right. A little shaken up, actually."

"Who wouldn't be? A snake coming at you like that? That's kind of the thing of nightmares. I've been told that, anyway. I don't personally get them, but my lab tech? He's my best friend, Will. He tells me, in great details, how he has nightmares where Smaug swallows him whole, or how Shenron might spit venom at him and make his face melt, and there's the whole situation with Kilgharrah --" Merlin shook his head. "Oh! Smaug's a boa constrictor, only six feet long, though. Still a baby, actually, and he's kind of the lab mascot, because if you lose something, he's probably got it in his nest. Shenron is a spitting cobra, and he's kind of a jerk. Kilgharrah --

"I'm re-thinking my idea of accompanying you to the lab," Arthur muttered.

Merlin's smile faltered. "Oh. I'm sorry. I forget, sometimes. You don't have to --"

"It's fine, Merlin," Arthur said as warmly as he could. "I'm teasing. I really don't have any snake phobias, I promise. I've never been around them, actually. Except for last week."

"Um," Merlin said, as if realizing something. He stopped in front of the doorway to the stairs, his posture suddenly stiff, his expression wary. He bit his lower lip and asked, "What do you mean? You're… Do you…"

Merlin struggled so much trying for the right words that Arthur took pity on him. "I'm not one of them, if that's what you're worried about. I only went because my best friend got it in her head that it couldn't hurt to try faith healing. I mean, nothing else has worked, and I didn't see the harm. Well, I didn't, until… you know."

Arthur glanced at Merlin's arm. He wanted to ask, but Merlin's expression turned sympathetic. "I'm sorry about your friend. Is she really sick?"

"She was," Arthur found himself saying. "I actually wanted to ask --"

A spark of inexplicable panic flashed in Merlin's eyes, distracting Arthur from what he had been about to say. Merlin sidetracked him completely when he asked, "How did you find me?"

"Gwen," Arthur said. When no recognition was forthcoming, Arthur elaborated, "Dr. Gwen Smith? She's a neurosurgeon at Albion Health Services. You contacted her for one of your student's projects."

"Oh! Gwen!" Merlin relaxed almost immediately, but his expression turned contrite. "I meant to call her back to thank her. Freya was so excited after their meeting that she couldn't wait to get started. I haven't seen her so excited about her research since I taught her how to handle snakes for the first time. Did Gwen mention me?"

"She mentioned your name," Arthur admitted, tweaking the truth a little. It wouldn't do him any favours to reveal that all of his friends had been teasing him about his obsession with a complete stranger. "I realized there couldn't be many people called Merlin, and she showed me your picture from the University website."

Merlin chewed his bottom lip. Arthur had a hard time not staring. "How do you know Gwen?"

"She's a friend," Arthur said. "Commiserated with her all through medical school. We work at the same hospital, consult over patients --"

He trailed off when the last of the tension seeped away from Merlin's shoulders. "You're a doctor?"

"I'm certainly not one of those…" Arthur shook his head. He had a few choice words for people who waved dangerous animals around under the pretext of faith healing, but he decided, this once, that he could be the better man. "Yes, I am."

Merlin's grin returned, dimples and all, and he held the door open for Arthur. "The lab is in the basement."

Arthur headed down slowly enough walk with Merlin side-by-side, their fingers brushing every few steps. "Did they put you down here because they didn't want snakes in the classrooms?"

"I argued for it, actually. Cool, dark environment, not a lot of traffic, quiet. The entomologists put up a good fight. Have to give them credit, they took the loss gracefully," Merlin said. He fell quiet for a minute and sheepishly admitted, "Not that the board of directors listened to my compelling arguments. Will may have released a couple of royal pythons in the administrative office when he found out that Professor Sigan bribed the Dean with season tickets to the Camelot Knights games. The Dean's a big fan."

Arthur laughed.

"You didn't hear that from me, though." Merlin said. He trotted down the last few steps, moving ahead to flash a key card at sensor. The door slipped open at the slightest pressure, and Merlin held it for Arthur, closing it securely behind them. "Just that way. Let me go in first, yeah?"

The laboratory was directly on the other side, blocked off by a wall that was made out of glass from the ceiling all the way to about hip-height. Through the observation glass, Arthur could see several workbenches, multiple microscopes with magnifying screens, equipment that he couldn't identify if his life depended on it, a fume hood, and several glass boxes of varying sizes that were the cozy homes of what looked to be several different species of snakes.

"The Dean likes to trot tours through the research centres," Merlin explained. "It helps grant approval when investors have something to see. There's a milking station so they can watch venom collection, and we turn that big monitor around to show the protein sequencing while it's in action, and --"

Arthur must have looked overwhelmed, because Merlin caught himself and coughed.

"And you didn't come here to get the tour. Anyway, we had to build the wall. All the people walking through were agitating the snakes. Never mind the safety aspect of it. It was bad for everyone," Merlin said.

"Everyone. Right," Arthur said, pointing at the only human occupant in the lab. The man had shaggy brown hair, average build, and he was unusually pale. He glared at Merlin like he wanted to commit murder, if only he wasn't trapped on top of a table. "Him, too?"

"It's always bad for Will when Kilgharrah is out," Merlin said with a grin. He reached for the glass door, but Arthur caught his arm gently.

"I'd like a tour," Arthur said. He was being forward, more than usual, but Arthur couldn't help it. He was drawn to Merlin, and not just because he thought Merlin was gorgeous. It felt right, so he pushed on, "But visiting each other in the workplace seems like the sort of thing that happens after we've had a few dates."

Merlin glanced at him shyly, but his small smile was full of mischief. "In that case, we'll save the tour for later, and I'm free for dinner."

"Dinner might need to wait until you save your microscope. Your tech looks ready to throw it," Arthur pointed.

Merlin turned, yanking the door open with a shout of outrage. "Will! I told you no! Put that down!"

"That was more than five minutes! How dare you put flirting with some guy ahead of my continued well-being?" 

"When you're exaggerating! Kilgharrah would never hurt you!"

"Kilgharrah thinks I'm one of those disposatechs you keep bringing to the lab!" Will said.

"Disposatechs?" Arthur asked.

Merlin huffed, but explained, "That's what he calls my grad students. Because, you know, if they mishandle the snakes, it's a pain in the ass to dispose of them."

Arthur snorted. He leaned against the counter of a nearby table, only to jerk away when a snake in a glass cage poked at the glass near where his arm had been. He covered up his startle, but luckily, Merlin hadn't noticed. Will, on the other hand, was struggling to lift the large microscope in his hands higher.

"Don't throw that! It's worth more than what you make in a year!"

"Oh, I see where your priorities are -- Kilgharrah, the equipment, _then_ me --"

"You're such a drama queen! Where is he?" Merlin asked. He sidewinded around the workbenches, carts, and random equipment with sanguine grace, folding up his sleeves along the way. Arthur followed cautiously, watching where he put his feet, and was careful not to come within several feet of any of the animal cages.

He watched Merlin crouch down slowly. "Arthur, don't move."

Arthur froze.

Between the bench where Will had taken refuge and where Merlin was kneeling was the biggest rattlesnake Arthur had ever seen. It slithered in a lazy, squirmy circle, its tongue licking the air every now and again, as if taunting Will. Merlin --

Arthur blinked.

Merlin stayed where he was, arms outstretched as if he fully expected the snake to come to him the same way a loyal dog would. Arthur watched, feeling as his flight-or-fight response tipped deeply into _get the fuck out_ , and swallowed hard. There was a handling stick off to the side, and various other safety equipment scattered virtually everywhere. He was about to suggest that maybe Merlin use one of those. A full protective body suit was probably recommended in this particular instance, but when he looked back, Merlin was gently holding Kilgharrah's head in one hand and hefting the snake's long, heavy body up against his hip as he stood up. "You opened his cage, didn't you?" Merlin asked Will.

"I was trying to make friends! I had a nice plump mouse for him," Will said. He looked around as he slid down. "We're down one mouse, by the way. It might be in the kitchen."

Merlin sighed and shook his head. He turned to Arthur and lifted the snake in his arms. "I'll just put him away. I'll be right back. What do you think of an early dinner?"

"That sounds good to me," Arthur said, meeting Merlin's eyes with a smile. But as soon as Merlin turned away, Arthur couldn't stop thinking of his strong, corded forearms, of the knobby delicacy of his hands, and how there was a snakebite scar on his arm right where the pit viper had bitten him, looking as if it was more than a week old.

It looked as if it were _years_ old.

 

 

"I got the job!" 

Arthur startled, jumping out of his skin, but he shouldn't have. He'd badgered Elena into making another appointment and had known that she would be coming. What he hadn't been prepared for was how Elena barged in like she owned the universe. She hadn't had that boundless confidence since before the early days of her diagnosis.

Elena shut the door behind her, plopped in the seat on the other side of Arthur's desk, and Arthur marvelled at how… _healthy_ she looked. Her hair was soft and fluffy, falling in gentle curls around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed with colour, freckles dotted her nose where she had a sunburn, and her natural beauty was enhanced by the lightest touch of mascara and lip gloss. She looked to have gained a few healthy pounds, rounding out the hard edges that she'd never been able to get rid of after the last brutal round of radiation more than a year ago.

The energy that was positively radiating out of Elena made her seem like a changed person -- or rather, more like her old self. Her hair was no longer flat and stringy; she didn't overdo it with the makeup to make herself seem less pale, and she was wearing bright, outlandish costume jewellery that Arthur hadn't seen in years.

He privately believed that it would be best if she continued never to wear those gaudy plastic bangles again, but if they made her happy, he could live with it.

"Congratulations!" Arthur said, easily mustering up enthusiasm. "When did you find out?"

"I got the call right before I left the house. It's been almost two weeks, Arthur, I thought they would hire that snotty brat with the Cordon Bleu diploma -- her croissants looked better than mine. Or maybe that guy with the unibrow, because his pies smelled delicious," Elena said, frowning slightly. The frown was quickly replaced by a big grin before Arthur could say anything to lift her spirits. "But obviously they decided on the best in the lot!"

Arthur stared, because that had been exactly what he had about to tell her. "Obviously. When do I round up the gang to raid the bakery for free samples?"

"I start next week," Elena said, squirming in her seat as if she couldn't wait to get out of it. "And there won't be any free samples until I run my own shop."

She bounced to her feet and headed for the door. A flare of alarm coursed through Arthur. "Where are you going?"

"Out? I just came to give you the news. I know you're busy --"

"Elena, we have an appointment," Arthur said, strained. He stood up and pointed to her chair, feeling as if he were a parent chastising their child, exasperation the only thing maintaining his stern glare. "We have to talk about your test results."

Elena paused, and a flicker of the Elena Arthur knew two weeks ago was back. Unsure, wary, preparing herself for bad news. But it was gone after a moment of introspection and self-revelation Arthur really wished he understood, because she said, "Why? I feel fine."

"Elena --"

"No, Arthur," Elena said, stomping over. She grabbed the back of the chair she'd been sitting in, digging her nails into the fake leather. A trace of _fragile_ slipped out from under her fierce mask. " _I feel fine_. I feel like myself again. I haven't had a headache in two weeks. My appetite is back. I went running this morning! I have a job. I'm _happy_ , Arthur. Please --"

Her voice broke, but she caught herself, steadying herself with a shaky breath.

"Please, let me have this for a while. I know it's only an illusion, that feeling this good means that it's going to be bad again soon, but… I want to pretend. I want to pretend I'm no different than anyone else. Let me enjoy my life while…" Elena cleared her throat. "While I still have one to live."

Arthur's heart broke. "Elena --"

"Nope," Elena said, holding up a finger. "I don't want to hear it, and you're not going to tell me. Your reward will be your favourite pie. You're coming over on Friday for dinner. I'm having everyone over, and we can finally meet your secret boyfriend."

"I don't have a secret boyfriend," Arthur protested. 

Elena raised a brow in triumph. Arthur realized his error and hurried to cover up.

"I don't have a boyfriend, _period_ ," he said, but the curl of a smirk on Elena's face told him that he was too late.

An emergency call -- one of his new patients had come in with severe side effects to the chemotherapy, and Lance had needed the consult to help counteract the symptoms -- had postponed his first date with Merlin. Every attempt to sync their schedules after that had failed. Arthur's workday was never hectic and he could be more flexible, but Merlin was covering courses for a professor on paternity leave for the next month, on top of his usual coursework. He was behind on correcting papers that he couldn't pass on to his grad students, and those same grad students were presenting at a conference soon and needed Merlin to review their posters before printing. 

Just when they thought they had a free hour or two last Thursday, Freya, the same suspicious girl that Arthur had met in the science building two weeks ago, had answered Merlin's phone to say that Merlin was elbows-deep in snakes. Apparently Will was nowhere to be found, and Merlin couldn't ignore urgent requests for antivenin.

Arthur wasn't quite at the point where he considered throwing in the towel, but it was a near thing. The only reason he continued to be invested in this not-quite-yet relationship were the near-constant texting and late-night phone calls.

"You have a secret boyfriend," Elena insisted. She waggled a finger in the air when Arthur was about to prepare another denial. "Don't lie to me. For one thing, you haven't let go of your phone since I came in. For another, you look like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck --"

"This metaphorical truck being _you_ ," Arthur muttered.

"-- whenever I say the word, _boyfriend_ ," Elena said, cackling. She yanked the door open. "Friday, seven o'clock, don't be late, and if you don't bring him, there will be no pie!"

She vanished into the busy hospital corridor beyond, leaving Arthur stumbling over the cymbal crash of _But I really don't have a boyfriend, we haven't even gone out on a date yet_ , and _Wait, come back, I wanted to tell you there's no bad news for me to give, I don't have any explanation, but your tumour is gone_.

Arthur sat back in his chair and heaved a sigh. He let go of his cell phone with some embarrassment that he had been caught checking to see if Merlin had texted him, and rubbed his face with his hands.

There was a light knock on his door. "Is this a bad time?"

At the familiar voice, Arthur dropped his hands at once and blinked his eyes repeatedly to focus. He stood up, nearly tripping over the rolling wheels of his chair, and caught himself on the edge of his desk. A file folder slipped from the blotter, flittering to the floor and taking Arthur's cell phone with it.

It bounced.

Arthur cringed, but Merlin's smile was a mixture of amused and fond. "Is this payback?"

"Not intentionally, I promise," Merlin said. Arthur waved him inside; Merlin obeyed, shutting the door behind him.

"I thought you had a class," Arthur said, picking up his phone and the papers that had slipped out of the folder. When Merlin didn't immediately answer, Arthur stood up and caught Merlin staring at his ass. Merlin blinked, looking at him sharply, and flushed when he realized that he'd been caught.

Arthur couldn't help his grin. He still had it.

"Will reminded me that I have grad students for a reason," Merlin said. "Mordred's taking over Vertebrate Physiology and Freya will take care of Conservation Practices. I thought, since showing up unannounced and without an appointment worked so well for you, that I might give it a shot and see what happens. Are you free for lunch?"

"I am --" Arthur hesitated as he pulled up his appointments calendar and saw that Elena had been the last in-office appointment of the day. He had rounds scheduled with the residents in the afternoon, but the senior residents could look after the less severe cases until he returned from what he hoped would be a long lunch. "-- definitely free."

He shut down his computer with a few clicks and looked up to see Merlin's pleased smile. He distracted himself from the way Merlin's shoulders stretched out his leather jacket by pulling on his own, and followed him out of the office. They didn't say anything until they reached the elevators.

"How do you feel about Thai?" Arthur asked, not sure what kind of food Merlin liked. Arthur didn't particularly go out of his way for Thai food, and had only suggested it because it seemed to be the thing to do.

"It's great, but…" Merlin trailed off, eyed Arthur for a moment, and asked, "Would you judge me if I said I'd rather have a big burger with fries? I'm starving."

"I know a place," Arthur said too quickly, relieved. Everyone thought that because he was a doctor and a _Pendragon_ , he preferred to go to high-class restaurants that overcharged for plates with scraps of lettuce and artistically decorated vacuum-sealed pressure-cooked slices of food that always struck him more as Soylent green experiments than proper edibles. "Best charcoal-broiled burgers in town. I'll take you there if you don't tell my patients on me. They won't follow their prescribed diets if they find out about the garbage I eat."

Merlin laughed and started to say something, only to be cut short when someone called out, "Arthur!"

"Oh, no," Merlin said with a sigh. He looked as despondent as Arthur felt, no doubt as frustrated with their inability to arrange their schedules long enough to actually go out on a date.

"It's fine, I'll get out of it," Arthur promised.

"That's what you think," Morgana said. "I need you to help me review the case files for Agravaine's case. I need an independent evaluation before I meet with him this afternoon. If he tries to bullshit me, I want to know up front."

"I'm going for lunch," Arthur said. The elevator _ding_ ed behind him, the doors rumbling open.

"I'll have lunch brought in," Morgana said.

"I'm going for lunch," Arthur repeated. With emphasis, he added, "With Merlin."

"No, you --" The second part of what Arthur said finally sank in, because Morgana stopped short and whipped around to look at Merlin. She schooled her surprised expression and smoothed her tone to a suspiciously nice, velvety-sweet purr. "With _Merlin_."

"You should make an appointment with your general practitioner," Arthur said, ushering Merlin into the elevator with urgent hand-motions. "You seem to be having difficulty hearing what I'm saying. I'm worried that something's going on with your hearing."

He climbed into the elevator with Merlin, using his body to block Morgana from getting on board with them. "Nothing's wrong with my hearing," she snapped. In a gentler tone designed to lure unsuspecting prey to her tangled web, Morgana said, "If that's Merlin, I want to --"

Firmly, Arthur said, "If Merlin is free on Friday, you will meet him at the dinner that Elena is throwing for everyone. Friday, and not before, and I refuse to discuss him in any way, shape, or form until then, and definitely _not_ with my busybody sister who will do everything that she can to get us to have our lunch in her office, where I'll be forced to review those case files while she interrogates him."

"Arthur, I wouldn't --"

Arthur wriggled his fingers in farewell as the doors shut in front of him.

He exhaled, turned around, and pushed the button for the lobby. "That was oddly satisfying."

"I know what else might be satisfying," Merlin said, glancing down at Arthur's lips.

Arthur didn't need an engraved invitation. He closed the distance between them, pushing Merlin against the elevator wall. Maybe this was rushing things. Maybe they should wait until they knew each other better. Arthur's attraction might have started from a faint glimpse since first seeing Merlin to the church, but that attraction wasn't merely physical. 

Dedicated to his work. Caring about his students. Merlin was the right amount of frazzled and eccentric to offset Arthur's otherwise rigid routine. He was strange, but the good kind of strange that could equally draw confused frowns or a bark of surprised laughter.

They'd barely spent any time together. Their conversations rarely took place face-to-face. This was only the second time they'd seen each other since the church.

He shouldn't be this infatuated. He'd never fallen so hard for anyone else before, and never so fast. There was something about Merlin that Arthur couldn't put into words, and he… he _wanted_.

Arthur wanted Merlin in his life. Surprise visits to the university, surprise visits at the hospital. Random conversations about nothing at all and everything that was meaningful. Merlin's clothes on their bedroom floor, Merlin in their bed for the rest of their lives.

Merlin's snakes… 

Arthur caged Merlin with his arms and kissed him anyway. They'd have to set ground rules about the snakes.

As first kisses went, it was something of a disaster. They tilted their heads in the wrong direction, noses banging together, the ill fit ignored in the rush to make contact for the first time. Arthur pulled away with a huffed laugh that was matched by Merlin's wry grin. When Merlin pulled Arthur in for a second attempt, they'd sorted themselves out quickly, lips brushing together at that perfect angle and the lightest of touches. It might have been chaste, but it really, _really_ wasn't, not if the way Arthur's gut clenched was any indication. Merlin's hands squeezed on Arthur's hips, and Arthur leaned in heavily, deepening the kiss until he might as well have drowned, not at all bothered that there was no air to breathe.

It was the _ding_ of the elevator doors opening that reminded Arthur they were in a public place, but it wasn't until someone awkwardly cleared their throat that Arthur drew away. He instantly regretted it at Merlin's grumpy, disappointed sigh, but Merlin quickly took stock of their surroundings and straightened himself up, looking straight ahead. He studied the control panel for an inordinately long time before reaching over to push the _Lobby_ button.

An orderly, two teenage girls with their mobile phones out, and an older lady -- the girls' mother, most likely -- climbed into the elevator with them. The mother glanced at them with a small smirk, the two girls whispered between them and shared a giggle as they showed the other whatever was on the screen of their phones. The orderly grumbled under his breath, pushing between Arthur and Merlin to hit the second floor button.

Arthur pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. He felt Merlin's fingers brush against his until they tangled together in a loose clasp.

"I'm free Friday," Merlin whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

"You'd think that the Dean would know better, but he really, really doesn't," Merlin said, shaking his head. He paused as the waitress came by to take away their plates, quickly finishing off his coffee before she did away with his cup, too. "He just likes to show off for his tours. I suppose he figures that the more daring he is, the more money he'll get for the funds. I really don't have any other explanation. He's actually a very intelligent man, but absolutely zero common sense. It's frustrating."

Arthur's cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He wiped a tear from his cheek in time to see the waitress slip the bill on the table. He snatched it out from Merlin's fingers and distracted him with, "Does he really stick his hand in the cage and pull out a snake?"

"Oh, yeah. I swear, he thinks the fact that he's a Dean makes him completely invulnerable. He doesn't just do that in my section, either. I heard that he did it with a pitohui in the aviary," Merlin said. He frowned and gestured with his fingers. "I'll get that."

"I suggested the place," Arthur said, pulling his wallet out. "You can get the next one. Also, really, I'm surprised your Dean hasn't gotten himself hurt by now."

"We all are, actually. After the first time, we started leaving Smaug out front, but he's gotten too big for the Dean to lift up comfortably. So now we're putting in Orm. She's a really colourful, but completely non-venomous snake. Looks like she's ready to kill someone any given moment, but really, she loves being handled, so it's perfect, actually. The Dean looks badass for the sponsors and the evaluating committee; no one gets sued for wrongful death. It's win-win all around," Merlin said. He chewed the corner of his lip, silent as Arthur took out two twenties to pay for the meal and to leave a generous tip. "Any chance that I can take you out before Friday?"

"Unlike some people who forget that they're allowed to go home at the end of the work day, I have reasonable hours," Arthur said, looking pointedly at Merlin. "The question you should ask is whether _you're_ free."

"I'll clear my calendar if it's busy," Merlin said. He reached for his coat as he slid out of the booth slowly, obviously as reluctant as Arthur to end their lunch. Merlin had to return to the lab and Arthur had his rounds, otherwise Arthur would call in sick and make a day of it. "I'll even set an alarm on my phone so that I don't forget. Not that I will."

Arthur was momentarily distracted by the patch of bare skin between the hem of Merlin's soft high-collar sweater and jeans as he pulled on his leather jacket. The glimpse of pale skin, the dark feathering of a treasure trail disappearing beneath the band of his jeans --

Arthur jerked his eyes up, a hot flush colouring his cheeks.

"Just tell me when," Arthur said, swallowing hard. He pulled on his own coat and followed Merlin out of the diner, his keys jingling in his hands.

Merlin reached into his inner coat pocket with a frown, glancing at the screen. Arthur caught a glimpse of the call screen before Merlin hit accept with an apologetic glance. "Sorry. It's Gwaine."

Arthur shook his head to indicate that it was fine, but he was quick to put his hand on the small of Merlin's back to guide him around a crowd that rounded the corner on a collision course. Merlin either didn't notice, or didn't mind; either way, Arthur kept his hand where it was for the short walk to the lot where he'd parked his car.

"What?" Merlin asked, his features scrunching in a confused frown. "But you said --"

He stopped dead and looked around worriedly before glancing at the nearest street sign.

"At the corner of Main and Elm, why?" Merlin's head tilted back and he stared at the cloudy sky. He licked his lips -- a movement that Arthur found far more interesting than he should have -- and pressed his mouth together as he listened to Gwaine. He started walking without looking where he was going. Once again, Arthur guided Merlin around a lamppost and pulled him to a stop when he tried to cross the street and was nearly mowed down.

For someone who worked with dangerous snakes for a living, Merlin had a surprising lack of self-preservation instincts.

The worry faded from Merlin's expression as the light changed. He bowed his head and stared at the ground, dismayed. "Gwaine --"

The word came out as a warning growl that Arthur never wanted directed toward him. He nudged Merlin along, guiding him across the street, and led the way to his car. Merlin had taken the train to the hospital, and Arthur had stretched out their lunch as long as he could, promising to drop Merlin at the university.

"Gwaine," Merlin said again, this time with a sharp bark of command that Arthur definitely wouldn't mind directed at him someday, preferably soon, and in the privacy of a bedroom. His voice gentled, but only marginally. "You're killing me. And I don't mean literally. You are figuratively twisting the knife in my back, and it's really starting to hurt. Look. I've got a date tonight --"

Merlin glanced at Arthur, raising his eyebrows. Arthur couldn't remember anything planned. Even if he did, he'd find a way to cancel. He nodded. Merlin flashed him a quick smile.

"-- and you know exactly what that means. What? Yes, it's with Arthur. How did you know… No, never mind, I don't want to know, and absolutely not. I do not want a protective detail. I have _plans_ , Gwaine --" Merlin switched his phone from one ear to the next and turned away, but not before Arthur saw how pink the tips of his ears had become. "Oh yeah, you'd like that, huh? No. No, absolutely not. You're _married_ , why would you -- _Oh my God_. I'm going to tell Percival you said that. I've got an idea. How's this for an entertaining evening? Why don't you do your job and _find them_?"

Merlin hung up pointedly. It was a moment before he turned to look at Arthur, and when he did, Arthur caught a glimpse of frustration, of disgust, and worst of all, fear. Wordlessly, he thumbed the key fob, unlocking the car, and opened the door for Merlin before Merlin could reach for it. Merlin's expression softened. He looked down, hiding a small, shy smile, and climbed inside.

Arthur was worried. Of course he was. Merlin had told him something of what he was involved in, though he had been uncomfortably light on details. Despite his youth, his specialty had made him a tenured professor at the university. He had a small army of graduate students, too many undergrads vying for his attention, and a course load that would crack a lesser man. His research was published in international journals, he received too many invitations to lecture at prestigious conferences, and it was largely through his own machinations that there was even a network of dedicated herpetologists in the area who could milk venomous snakes for the preparation of antivenins.

But beyond that, he was also a key witness in what appeared to be a convoluted criminal case involving the illegal importation and sale of venomous species of snakes, toads, frogs, and salamanders. In reality, it was really a long con orchestrated by two people who had already bilked millions of dollars from the congregation of various churches across the United States -- none of whom had significant wealth to speak of in the first place -- and who had murdered a few people in the process.

Merlin hadn't said. Not in those explicit words. He'd downplayed the danger, but Arthur wasn't an idiot. The situation discomfited Merlin far more than he let on.

Arthur didn't ask. He climbed behind the driver's seat, started the ignition, and pulled out of the parking lot. He paused, waiting for traffic to clear. Arthur reached over to give Merlin's hand a squeeze.

Merlin squeezed back.

The ride to the university was done in silence. Instead of dropping Merlin off in front of his building, Arthur took Merlin's access card and keyed his way into the faculty lot, taking the empty slot slated for Merlin. He parked and got out of the car.

"Arthur, you don't --"

Arthur held up a finger and thumbed his way through a text message to the senior resident. He was going to be later than he thought. He cancelled rounds, rescheduled for the next day, and sent a second text to a colleague. It was going to cost him a favour, but at least his patients would be looked after while he kept an eye on Merlin.

"You'll be late for work --"

Arthur called Morgana. She picked up on the second ring. "If you're calling to apologize, I'll accept one in the form of appearing in my office in the next fifteen minutes to go through the paperwork. I don't have much time to prepare. Agravaine is going to be here within the hour --"

"Get Lance to help you. He's a brilliant diagnostician and completely underused where he is. Why he hasn't been promoted by now is beyond me, and we're lucky he likes us, or he'd have had grounds for a lawsuit when the board hired Agravaine over him years ago," Arthur said. "Let me know how it goes."

He hung up without waiting for a reply and ignored the buzzing of his phone when she immediately called back. He turned to Merlin and raised a brow.

Merlin stood awkwardly, his arms shoved into his jeans pockets with the elbows locked, shoulders nearly to his ears. An unhappy pinch to his brow and the downturn of his mouth gave Arthur a hint of what Merlin was thinking, but Arthur didn't give him a chance to protest. 

"Look," Arthur said, keeping his voice low and soothing, as if Merlin were a patient he really didn't want to upset, "I'm not Gwaine. I don't have a gun. All I've got going for me are the self-defence classes my sister dragged me to all through med school, because she thought I'd turn into a big, boring lump. But I'm worried and this is more for me than for you, because I got the feeling on the drive here that you were thinking about breaking this off until it's over, and…

"I don't ever want to break this off," Arthur said, admitting in a few words exactly what he wanted out of the relationship -- everything. He felt awkward for revealing how deeply he felt for Merlin so early in their relationship, but the sensation faded to relief when he saw the hopeful look in Merlin's eyes.

"I don't want you to be hurt," Merlin said.

"I don't want _you_ to be hurt," Arthur said, shaking his head. "All I'm going to do is sit in on your class and follow you around for the rest of the day, whether you like it or not. It's for my own peace of mind, really. We'll go to your place, grab your things, then go to mine. I'll make dinner, we can watch a movie, and you can… I'm really hoping your plans involve you staying overnight --"

He was silenced by an urgent, insistent kiss that was a little too rough at first. It settled into something sweet and passionate. Arthur held onto Merlin's hips for balance and he felt Merlin's hands curl behind his neck, fingers twining into his hair. The kiss was as intense as the one in the elevator. Arthur's toes curled and his knees waffled. His fingers found the loops of Merlin's jeans and twisted through them with no intention of letting go. He deepened the kiss, less to chase after the lingering taste of coffee in Merlin's mouth and more to just _drown_. 

They both broke for air at the same time, but neither of them separated. Arthur took Merlin's weight despite his wobbly legs, and rested his forehead against Merlin's temple.

"Okay," Merlin whispered. 

"Okay," Arthur said. Letting Merlin go was an exercise in self-discipline, because it was the last thing that he wanted to do. When they separated, Arthur realized they had an audience -- several students on their way to the science building had stopped short to stare. One girl had a silly grin on her face, another fumbled with her cell phone and raised it as if taking a picture, and the boy with them was curled into himself protectively, morose and dejected. His friend hit his shoulder.

"I told you he was probably with someone."

"Ugh," the first boy said, pushing through the girls to head for the building. "Why did it have to be a hot guy, though? And is that a _Lexus_? I can't compete with _that_!"

Merlin must have heard, because his muffled laugh came out as a cough, and he bowed his head to rest it on Arthur's shoulder. "Sorry."

"What for?" Arthur asked. He wasn't complaining. In one fell swoop, he'd saved their relationship before it could end prematurely, they'd established that they _were_ in a relationship, and he was, apparently, _a hot guy_. The situation had done wonders for his ego. "Come on. You'll be late for class."

"They're going to _talk_ ," Merlin complained.

"That's okay," Arthur said smugly.

Merlin wasn't wrong. Arthur had taken a seat at the back of the lecture hall to minimize distractions, but Merlin's students -- mostly -- paid attention to the class, while others whispered between themselves. A few people looked his way curiously, and Arthur ignored them in exchange for watching Merlin work. Merlin was enthusiastic, engaging, packing his lecture with so much information that Arthur's head spun trying to make sense of everything. 

Merlin's professor voice turned Arthur on, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to stop himself from imagining fucking Merlin over the desk. Or better yet, Merlin fucking _him_.

By the time the students finally streamed out, Arthur was seriously re-thinking his plan of watching Merlin teach all day. Until this moment, he hadn't realized how much of a kink he had for a smart man in glasses. He wondered if he could convince Merlin to keep them on --

"I'm going to check the lab, ask Will to put the experiments on hold for the day and to keep an eye on the grad students, and then we can go," Merlin said, packing up his materials.

"Skipping out early?" Arthur said with a grin. 

"Just following your sterling example," Merlin said. He paused on his way out for a quick kiss that wasn't quick in any definition of the word, pulling Arthur along behind him. Some of Merlin's students lingered in the hallways when they exited, casting curious glances at them. One of them caught how Merlin was holding Arthur's hand and grinned at them.

Any fears that Merlin would get in trouble for being in a relationship with another man seemed to be unfounded, at least on the student side of things. Arthur tightened his grasp around Merlin's hand and followed him down the stairs and along a convoluted back way through one casual security checkpoint. The second one required Merlin's key card and access code.

At the rear of the herpetology lab was a lunch room, a stock room, a room with _Live Animals_ on the door, a co-ed locker room with private bathroom, and another door with a high security lock. They headed toward an office with a laboratory technician on his break, his boots up on his desk, and an iPad in his lap. Arthur could hear the sports recap playing on the table. When Will noticed them, he dropped his feet from the desk and pulled an earbud out.

"Just in time," Will said, pausing the playback. He left the iPad on a stack of papers and stood up, his chair swirling in a lazy circle before it hit the wall. "The Dean's secretary called with her ten minute warning. There's a tour on its way. Orm's in the cage in the public area, I've got Smaug hanging out, but Kilgharrah's still out there --"

"You couldn't just put him on a cart and roll him out?"

Will scoffed. "You forgot the last time, didn't you? Your dumb snake went at me, and thank _fuck_ for the glass, which was worthless when I dropped it on the floor and spent the entire night on the bench because he was _circling_ me -- Oh, hi there. You're the dude he won't stop talking about, right?"

Arthur grinned. 

" _Will_ ," Merlin hissed. He grabbed Will and hauled him out of the office. "Shut up, yeah?"

"But --"

"Why didn't you get one of the grads to help you?" Merlin asked, shoving Will ahead of him. "Don't tell me they heard you calling them _disposatechs_ again?"

Will grimaced. "Maybe?"

Merlin groaned. "When they lock you up in the stock room with Kilgharrah, I am not going to have any sympathy. At all. And if it happens at the end of the day, I'm not coming back to let you out until the morning, because you're an asshole."

"Of course I am. Isn't that why you hired me?" Will said, glancing over his shoulder with an expression of complete confusion.

"Funny, I thought it was because you were good at your job, but I'm having second thoughts," Merlin said. He looked at Arthur. "Sorry. I'll make this quick. There's no way I'm going to be here when the Dean comes by, because he'll pull me in to _talk_ to whoever he's bringing down."

"It's all right," Arthur said. He lingered behind, watching with interest as a grad student -- Mordred -- prepared a PCR plate for protein sequencing. Mordred didn't so much as look at Arthur, but must have known that Arthur was there, because once he was finished, he pulled on a pair of thick leather gloves, and flipped open the lid of a glass cage that was on a nearby cart. 

On the glass cage was a label: _Bungarus fasciatus, Banded Krait_. There was also red tape along the top with big lettering: _Warning. Venomous snake. Handle with care. Approval from Senior Personnel is required prior to signing out this snake._

Arthur took a slow step backward. There was no shame in being cautious around any snake that had this particular label. He was not, by any means, afraid, despite the smug little smirk that appeared on Mordred's face.

He left Mordred to deal with the yellow banded snake without any distractions and watched the other students, who were performing far less dangerous tasks. A young woman was sorting through several clear bottles, holding them up to the light. Another was studying slides under a microscope. Two young men were cleaning up their stations while a third rolled a glass cage to the secure area where the snakes were kept. Arthur recognized Freya and considered asking how her research consultation with Gwen had gone. He changed his mind when she turned to glare at him as he approached.

Arthur couldn't decide if Freya and Mordred were simply particularly protective of Merlin or if they were just naturally wary of strangers. He was startled out of his staring match with Freya when Will performed a full-body flail.

"Oh, shit, they're here," Will said.

Arthur turned around and saw a small group approaching the public area on the other side of the glass wall. In that area was a small alcove that allowed limited access to the laboratory itself, and that was where Will must have set up the boa constrictor and the non-venomous but still impressively colourful Orm.

The Dean was a stately man with long white hair and a tweed jacket who gestured animatedly as he spoke. He was leading a small group of eight people with him, most of whom were wearing either business suits, although Arthur spotted one colourful dress in the drab sea of dark, muted shades. 

He froze, his attention drawn to a familiar face.

The woman had wavy blonde hair, too much black eyeliner, and she oozed a confidence. Morgause Gorlois, had her hand tucked in the crook of Cenred King's arm, both of them listening attentively to the Dean, although their attention was clearly fixed on the laboratory itself.

"Merlin," Arthur called out, but Merlin must have already seen them, because he turned around, putting on a lab coat while simultaneously carting away the glass cage with Kilgharrah. Will moved toward the public area with a determined look on his face, as if intending to distract the Dean and his tour group from Merlin.

"You're in my way," Freya snapped, pulling Arthur back to himself.

"Yeah, sorry," Arthur said, moving out of the way. Freya looked at where he was watching and pushed him away, toward Merlin, and went up front to join Will.

Arthur moved slowly, hoping to avoid attracting attention, and didn't breathe again until he reached the back room. He found Merlin in an unlocked secure room, the cart jammed against the wall. Merlin paced the rows of shelves, fingers trailing along the glasses as if reaching for solace. The snakes reached out for him in turn, climbing up along the glass cages to follow the motion of his hand.

 

 

"And when were you going to tell me that part?" Merlin shouted. "Don't you dare give me that bullshit about not wanting to worry me. You're damn right I'm mad. Those bastards are hurting snakes, and now they're showing up in my back yard? No, I don't think they saw me, it's dark in the lab for a reason, the snakes don't like the bright light, and… _don't change the fucking topic_."

Arthur winced. He was very happy that he wasn't on the receiving end, but he didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for Gwaine. From his limited perspective, the investigation was being very badly handled. He didn't know anyone in law enforcement -- not outside of his sister, who didn't really count -- but he'd watched enough crime and punishment television to know that if consultants were brought in on a case, they were generally not directly involved.

He opened the refrigerator and looked in. He'd done the shopping over the weekend so he was reasonably stocked, but he wasn't that good of a cook to whip up a five star meal at a moment's notice, even if he had an entire grocery store's worth of options at his disposal. He went from the kitchen to the take-out menu drawer, fanning out the options that were good, quick, and included delivery.

He put them down when he realized that the living room had gone quiet. Arthur went to the island and watched as Merlin paced the length of the ceiling-to-floor windows,, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His expression was pinched, his head was down, but he was listening to whatever Gwaine was saying without interruption.

Arthur decided that Merlin's silence was probably not a good thing. Merlin stopped pacing, which was likely to be even worse. He leaned against the arm of the plush chair that was Arthur's favourite, his shoulders slumping in frustration.

Arthur wished he could make things better.

"No. It's fine. _I'm_ fine," Merlin said. His voice was low and even, and even someone who didn't know him any better, would have been able tell that he was as far from being calm as it was possible to be. Arthur hoped Gwaine realized that. "I'm not home, so don't worry about that. Oh, do you really think I'll tell you, given everything?"

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I'm at Arthur's." Merlin shifted slightly, looking around, though he didn't turn enough to catch Arthur's eye. "It's a nice place, nowhere near my apartment, with a security guard at the front entrance and an elevator that needs keys to get to the different floors. I'm safe. I don't need -- fine, if you want to waste federal resources by planting someone outside the building, be my guest, but I think we're better off if you send everyone to keep an eye on my lab."

Merlin suddenly stood up, barking a frustrated laugh.

"What do you mean, _why_? You just told me that you raided their house a few days ago, but you don't have _them_. You have their snakes. They've got a long con running, how are they supposed to do anything if they don't have any snakes? If they don't know who I am, why do you think they showed up at the university? Outside of the zoo in Ealdor, and a couple of private herpetologists down south, we've got the largest population of venomous snakes --"

Merlin sputtered.

"How _do_ you have your job again? Blackmail material on your boss? Did you suck someone's dick?" Merlin asked meanly.

Arthur wondered that himself. He was usually the sort to want to hear both sides of the story to make a fair judgment, but he was firmly in Merlin's camp on this one. Still, there was no point in hurting the feelings of the person who was offering protective detail against accused _mass murderers_. Arthur moved out of the kitchen to join Merlin, taking the phone out of his hand before he answered whatever Gwaine said with another vicious volley.

"Hello, Gwaine. It's Arthur," Arthur said. Before Gwaine could answer, Arthur continued, "A protective detail to keep an eye on the building is more than welcome. I'll advise the front desk not to be alarmed by a vehicle loitering on the street so that your men don't get towed away. Now, tell me that you're going to have someone watching Merlin's lab, so that he can calm down."

Arthur looked pointedly at Merlin. Merlin rolled his eyes and sat down in Arthur's favourite chair.

"Protective detail on a person is easy. Protective detail on a bunch of snakes? Not so much," Gwaine said, unhelpfully. "At the most I can set up surveillance in case they show up again, but --"

" _Thank you_ ," Arthur said, his tone syrupy sweet and borrowed from each and every time Morgana wanted to soften up her opponent before she cut them off at the knees. "I'm sure you'll do your utmost to ensure that Merlin's livelihood isn't destroyed, because that's the least you can do considering you got him involved in this in the first place."

"I don't like you very much," Gwaine said, clearly stinging from the low blow.

"I don't care. Just do it," Arthur said cheerfully, and hung up. He handed the phone to Merlin, but not before he caught a glimpse of the main screen -- a selfie of the two of them at the diner earlier that day, Merlin's back to Arthur's chest, elbowing him in the rib when Arthur pulled him too close. It seemed like a very long time ago.

Knowing that Merlin had replaced a picture of Kilgharrah with a picture of _them_ , as if they were an established couple? It did things to Arthur, and he was tempted to throw Merlin over his shoulder and take him to the bedroom. The only thing stopping him was the heavy fall of Merlin's shoulders, the dejected slump of his body, and his half-closed eyes, partially hidden under the fist pressed against his temple.

They were still very much in the getting-to-know-the-other stage of their relationship, and Arthur was at a loss. He didn't know if he should offer platitudes or leave Merlin alone to dwell on the situation. He wanted to make it better, and he really didn't know how. 

"I'll order in," Arthur said, and decided that he would pick a few plates in the hopes that Merlin would like one of them.

"'M not that hungry actually," Merlin said. He sighed, dropping his arm. "I'm sorry, Arthur. This is… This is stupid. No one in their right mind would stay with me after all this. I mean, most people can't get past the snakes. I don't even keep one at home! But this whole _potential victim of murderous animal-smuggling con men_ thing? That's more than most people are prepared to deal with."

Merlin stood up. He didn't make eye contact. He went for the coat he'd left draped over the high chair against the kitchen island and pulled it on.

"I completely understand if you want me gone. If you don't want to see me again, actually. I can't ask you to wait for this to be over because that's not fair to you, and I definitely can't stay here, because, then, I'm the one putting you in danger, and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you --"

Arthur closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. The ugly twist in his chest was a knife. It might have been imaginary, but it was a knife all the same, sure and sharp and painful. The edge of it was poisoned with a lonely future, empty and bereft, dim and saturated, every colour drowned in grey.

 _No_. He forced himself to walk over to where Merlin was fussing with pockets that were suddenly not cooperating. Arthur clamped a hand on Merlin's shoulder, but Merlin was so tense that he jumped, turning around to stare at Arthur, wide-eyed. "How about an omelette and a salad? Something light that won't upset your stomach? You need to eat something."

Arthur curled his fingers under the collar of Merlin's leather coat and pulled it off. It came easily, but only because Merlin was too surprised to react. Arthur put the coat back where it had been, and went to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door. He pulled out eggs, cheese, the spinach, and the fixings for a salad, not emerging until his arms were full. When he laid the food out on the island, he caught Merlin looking at him, a little lost.

"Merlin --"

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked helplessly.

"Making dinner," Arthur said blankly. Merlin's expression became even more confused, and Arthur took pity on him. He leaned forward, hands on the counter of the island, and stared at Merlin before finally speaking. "I didn't lie to you. I am not a huge fan of snakes, but I don't hate them either. And honestly, I'm kind of glad people don't give you a chance because they have issues with snakes, because you would be taken, and I wouldn't be dating you now."

"We're dating?" Merlin's voice was a little on the weak side.

"Frankly, anyone who can't see past the snakes when they're important to you? Probably not the people you want to wake up to for the rest of your life, but that's a personal opinion," Arthur said. "And I'll grant that the cloud of _murderous animal-smuggling con men_ hanging over your head is a bit of a complication, but it's not one that's big enough to chase me away. Gwaine's working on it, and it'll be over soon."

Merlin's jaw moved, but no sound came out of his mouth. He wasn't leaving, either, so Arthur took it as a good sign. He brought the eggs to the stove and pulled a skillet from the wall.

"I'll be completely honest. There are some things that do put me off. But those are on me, not on you. I mean, if they really bothered me on the _relationship killer_ level, I'd ask you about them, and we'd talk it out, because we're mature adults and that's the way mature adults are supposed to deal with it, at least in theory. Also, I think I'm halfway in love with you anyway, so I'd put up with a lot of things that most people probably never would." 

Arthur took a metal mixing bowl from the shelf and spent a fruitless minute looking for the whisk -- it was never where it was supposed to be -- and settled for a fork instead.

"For example, I still can't figure out how you survived that snake bite at the church, or how you came out of it barely a week later with only a tiny little scar, but I decided that I don't really care about that because you're all right." 

Arthur cracked four eggs into the bowl, one after the other, tossing the eggshells in the compost bin.

"I'm at a complete loss to explain how it is that my best friend's incurable brain tumour vanished after that snake-dancing act -- after _you_ touched her -- but the science part of my brain doesn't want to process it because as long as those brain scans stay clear, it means Elena is going to live. I'm starting to think some things are just better without an actual, logical reason."

Arthur turned on the stovetop and gestured his fork in the air. 

"Also, we've really got to talk about Kilgharrah, _Mer_ lin, because he's not a dog, and you can't call him to heel like one --"

The fork was plucked out of his hand and dropped into the bowl. An arm reached past him and turned off the stovetop and moved the skillet off. Merlin turned Arthur around and pressed against him, blocking him in with his arms.

"And finally," Arthur said, stroking his fingers up Merlin's corded forearms, tracing the sinew and muscle as if he were mapping out the best, unbreakable route to Merlin's heart, "You really have to stop making decisions for me when it comes to this relationship. I'm not waiting for the situation to be over because I spent _days_ after the church thing wondering if I'd ever see you again, and that absolutely killed me. I'd wait for you -- I'd wait forever -- but I don't want to. I don't care what's going on. I'm staying right here and we're going to deal with whatever happens --"

"You're halfway in love with me?" Merlin asked, sounding awestruck.

Arthur chewed his lower lip thoughtfully, and yes, he had said that. There was no taking it back now, and there was no way that he could gracefully extricate himself from the awkward. "I know it's too early to say it, but I figure that _halfway in love_ is a lot less creepy than _heads-over-heels_ , so --" Arthur didn't finish what he was going to say. Merlin's lips got in the way.

The words stuttered before Arthur's brain caught up with the program that the rest of his body was very earnestly following. He stopped trying to explain and let himself fall into Merlin's kisses, marvelling just how soft they were. Bare fingertips trembled along Arthur's cheeks with a gentleness that made him feel precious, fragile, _valuable_.

Arthur's chest felt tight, overwhelmed by the strength of emotion -- his own, and the surge belonging to Merlin, rising high to crash down on him like a terrible wave in a storm. Everything was wiped clean, a fresh slate to start again. When the haze cleared, it was easy, so easy, to decide what to do next, because he wasn't alone among the debris that the storm left scattered along the shore.

Merlin pulled away with a shuddering gasp. He was inches away, but he might as well be on the other side of a chasm. His hand hovered mere millimetres from Arthur's cheek, the heat of his palm a physical touch in and of itself. 

His eyes were shuttered, but the gleam of blue beneath those dark eyelashes seemed almost to glow, rimmed bright with gold. He licked his lips as if savouring the taste, and Arthur --

Arthur leaned in, wanting a taste, too. Of the lingering bitterness of coffee that was hours old, of a quick bite of a chocolate bar that had been found on Merlin's office desk while scrambling for his notes before the lecture, of _Merlin_ , indescribable, salty and sweet, with a dangerous, burning undertone.

Like a snake. Like venom.

Arthur was reminded of the lessons he'd learned as a Boy Scout -- if lost in the woods, test whatever berries were found before eating them. Let the flavour linger on the tongue, as much to decide if the treasure trove was palatable as to uncover whether it could kill after more than a mouthful or two. Arthur had never been much good at figuring out the difference.

In this particular instance, he didn't care much. 

Merlin drew away, a blush of colour on his cheeks. Arthur followed him, magnetized, his nerves on end, _wanting_. He chased after Merlin's lips in fleeting kisses and nibbles until they'd wandered blindly out of the kitchen and collided with the wall in the corridor. 

"I never got a tour of your apartment," Merlin murmured.

"I know exactly where to start," Arthur said, nuzzling Merlin's cheek. He pulled back because… Because. "Is this too fast?"

Merlin didn't answer right away. He seemed to forget how to use his words. His mouth dropped open and immediately, Arthur's eyes drifted down. He leaned in once more, but only to kiss Merlin's cheek encouragingly. "I'm not a one-night-stand kind of guy."

"Neither am I," Arthur said. He nudged Merlin's head aside and pressed chaste kisses along the length of his neck, resisting the urge to suck a mark on the bare skin. 

"I have a strange life," Merlin confessed. Arthur pulled away, but just enough to get a clear look at Merlin's expression. Despondent, resigned, even grieving over a relationship that they didn't even have, not yet.

"Okay," Arthur said. 

Surrounded by venomous snakes. By grad students who could strike and leave a just and killing wound should Arthur ever let his defences down. Best friends with a lab tech who had no fear of anything except for one particular snake. Roped into a life-or-death investigation by another friend who was too lackadaisical with Merlin's safety for Arthur's tastes. 

Somehow, Arthur had the feeling that he was only scratching the surface of _weird_ , and he was surprisingly all right with it.

"I like strange," Arthur said, when Merlin only seemed to grow more uncertain. "I like you."

"Arthur --"

"I'll be here tomorrow. I'll be here next week. If I'm lucky, I'll be there twenty years from now," Arthur said, kissing the corner of Merlin's mouth. 

"If _I'm_ lucky," Merlin muttered, almost to himself. He shook his head, his mouth moving as if he were having an argument with himself, but when his eyes flicked up to meet Arthur's, he seemed to come to some kind of decision. The tension eased from his shoulders, and he pushed against Arthur, kissing him and distracting him until -- "I have no idea where your bedroom is."

Arthur laughed and turned them around. He held out his hand.

Merlin stared at it, a shy little smile turning wry and dark. He took Arthur's hand, the contact electrifying for the strength of its promise.

Arthur drew Merlin after him.

"Down the hall, last room on the left," Arthur said in between kisses. It wasn't a long way, but every step felt like miles. They stumbled and tripped, crashing into the ugly painting Morgana had given him years ago, shattering the frame. A vase was knocked over by an errant elbow, but Arthur barely paid it any mind. Clothes were stripped, piece by piece, tangling around elbows and wrists before leaving a breadcrumb trail along the floor.

Arthur's bedroom bordered on the risqué -- if not for the mirrored glass and the sheer curtains, they would be presenting a show to any distant peeping tom with a good telescope. The bedroom also showed signs of bachelorhood -- crumpled blankets, a small pile of laundry that didn't make it into the wicker basket, a crumpled tube of lube on the bedside table next to a racy volume of _Journal of Oncology_. He hadn't been expecting a guest, and, if the evening progressed the way he'd hoped, he would have excused himself with a little white lie so that he could shove everything into the walk-in closet in an attempt to clean up.

But they were here now, it was too late, and, in any case, Arthur was doing his best to distract Merlin from the mess.

He guided Merlin to the bed. Guided him down with insistent kisses. Urged Merlin to lift his hips so that he could get those sinful second-skin jeans peeled off.

It was more of a struggle than he'd expected, earning him a huffed laugh and a squirm when Merlin pitched in to help. Arthur rolled to the side to get out of his own trousers, the break in contact giving Merlin a moment to look around.

"Don't have people over often, do you?" Merlin asked, reaching down to stroke himself lazily, as if unable to help himself.

Arthur's brain short-circuited at the sight of those long, knobby fingers curled loosely around an uncut cock, pulling at the forehead and exposing the teasing tip. He felt as if he should be embarrassed by the dirty boxer briefs that hung from the corner of the dresser drawer, but the only thing that came to mind was how much he wanted to get his mouth on Merlin's cock.

"Not in years," Arthur admitted. He'd always gone to other people's places for casual hook-ups that had left him feeling sick and dissatisfied, and none of them had been particularly memorable. He couldn't bring any of them to mind -- not that he cared to, not when he had a feast laid out next to him. He tossed his trousers, boxers and socks off to the side and rolled on top of Merlin, groaning in delight at the contact of warm flesh and hard cock against his own.

He leaned down to kiss Merlin. He brushed his lips down Merlin's throat. He licked a line over the jut of Merlin's collarbone, and trailed down to --

To…

He drew back a little, trying to make sense of what he saw. A multitude of scars dotted Merlin's chest and arms, his thighs and calves. Most were small, no larger than the pinprick of a needle, but some were the equivalent of an artist smearing their thumb across a page to ruin a work of art, so brutal as to tear the canvas.

Arthur knew what those scars meant. He was a doctor, and he wasn't so old that he didn't remember his days as a resident, or the large volumes of research he performed in the aftermath of the disastrous visit to the faith-healing church. A snake bite was a snake bite, regardless of the stages of healing, though these had healed over quite well, without unusual puckering of the flesh or gaps where the muscle had been torn, never to return or repair.

If anything, the tears in the skin were scars no worse than the scrapes a child might get from falling off their bike, scabbed over and scarred. It was incredible to Arthur, knowing the damage a snake's bite could do, regardless of the degree of envenomation.

But more than that, the odds that someone had endured this many snake bites in their lifetime and _survived_ \--?

Merlin tensed beneath Arthur, shifting as if he meant to get up. Arthur put a hand on Merlin's cheek to keep him still. He shook his head, silently begging Merlin to understand what Arthur was thinking, how Arthur was seeing Merlin.

"You're beautiful," Arthur blurted out, finally finding the words.

 

 

Merlin's eyes on him were sharp and sudden, piercing him to the core. Doubt bled away only very slowly, finally disappearing when Arthur kissed every one of the scars that he could see. When he couldn't find any more, he slid down Merlin's body and kissed the head of his cock, tasting the pre-come.

Salty and… indescribable, mixed with a spiked musk that was unique to Merlin, Arthur chased the source of it, taking Merlin into his mouth so that he could suck out more. He wasn't sure how long he was at it. How long it was before he felt Merlin's fingers tugging at his hair, how long until Merlin's hips were off the mattress, fucking into Arthur's mouth. How long Merlin had been sobbing, deliriously calling his name and confusingly alternating between begging him to stop and for him to keep going.

Merlin's fierce yank on his hair finally drew Arthur out of his cock-worshipping stupor, but he was so far gone that he didn't realize that Merlin had flipped them over. Arthur laid on his back, hands stroking Merlin's trembling thighs, licking his lips as he watched Merlin.

Merlin's head was back, his mouth open in an unrestrained moan. His arms were pulled behind him and --

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Arthur whispered, finally realizing what Merlin was doing. Merlin was fucking himself, opening himself up on those sinful fingers. Arthur cursed his inability to see from the angle he was in, and instead reached for the lube until he found it already opened, leaking on the bed sheets. He collected the slick, torn between stroking Merlin's bobbing cock, jerking himself off, or blindly adding another finger to Merlin's hole to open him up more.

The decision was made for him when Merlin leaned down over him, balanced on one arm propped up beside Arthur's head, the other -- 

Arthur felt warm, wet fingers wrap around his cock, positioning it against Merlin's hole. It breached, but only a bit, and Arthur had to fight to keep from slamming in. "Can I?" Merlin asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes -- no," Arthur suddenly realized, wincing when he saw the flash of hurt in Merlin's expression. "No, I want -- I meant. Condoms. I have condoms in the drawer --"

Merlin's expression flickered between relieved and settled neatly into _hungry_ , as if there had been no interruption. "I'm clean. You're a doctor. I'm pretty sure you are, too."

Arthur knew he was -- he tested himself almost religiously after casual sex, even after using protection. The logical part of his mind insisted that they exchange results, that they hold evidence as proof and promise that they were healthy and committed. He felt as if they were skipping over the formalities and diving headfirst into permanency.

He wanted to lecture. He _should_ lecture. _Just because I'm a doctor doesn't mean that I'm clean. You shouldn't assume things like that. My God, you're really reckless, aren't you? I thought you just lacked the gene for self-preservation --_

But nothing came out. He swallowed hard and nodded. Merlin barely waited for Arthur's answer, already pressing down. Arthur felt his cock breach Merlin's hole. Merlin grunted, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. He was tight, so tight, around Arthur's cock, and though there was little resistance, Arthur wondered if Merlin prepared himself well enough for this.

Merlin rose up on his knees, and sank down with a little swirl of his hips that drew a moan from Arthur's lips.

"Good. So good," Merlin said, with the sort of throaty dryness that came from talking without break. 

Had he been talking all this time? Arthur focused on Merlin's voice to keep himself from coming too soon, immediately regretting it when what Merlin was saying sent a raging inferno of arousal to his groin.

"You feel so good. So right. Perfect. You fill me up like I need to be filled up. You fit perfect. You're perfect. I've been waiting for you. All this time. I've been looking for someone like you. Who'll accept without question. But you found me. It's a sign. Nobody's ever had me like this. Nobody. You're the first. You're the only one who ever will. You're mine. I'm never letting you go. So good, Arthur. _So good_ \--"

Merlin leaned back, his hands on Arthur's knees. He rode Arthur with abandon, his own cock jutting up straight, bobbing with every movement. Merlin was a mesmerizing sight, intoxicating, exotic, and Arthur couldn't hold on any longer. He arched his hips, thrusting up into Merlin.

He looked up at Merlin, just a glance, and thought he saw a glint of gold in the sliver of his hooded eyes. 

Arthur told himself he'd ask later. Later, when he wasn't chasing his orgasm and -- _oh, it was probably a trick of the light, nothing to be concerned about_. He lost his train of thought when Merlin kissed his throat, his teeth raking the meat between shoulder and neck. Arthur's movements stuttered as he came, his vision blanking white with the rush of pleasure --

 _And pain_ \--

He was only distantly aware of a stinging bite at his shoulder, there and gone in an instant, barely noticeable and immediately forgotten as his vision cleared in time to watch Merlin jerk himself off, spilling come on Arthur's stomach and chest.

Merlin gasped for breath. He was still talking, but in such low tones that Arthur couldn't make out the words. Merlin was slurring, the syllables sibilant, and he seemed lost in another world when he rubbed his come into Arthur's skin. Arthur grimaced, because that was going to be a pain to wash off, his chest hair matted up like that, but he didn't dare disturb what Merlin was doing. Instinct warned him against making a sound, that this was something important. There was the feel of rite and ritual to it, of the sacred and holy, and as much as Arthur wanted to tease Merlin, he couldn't find the energy.

He closed his eyes instead, his heart racing as he came down from the climax high. He winced in sympathy when he felt Merlin pull himself off, as the dribble of his come trickled onto his thigh. When Merlin settled against him, an arm over Arthur's chest, and his head nestled against Arthur's throat, Arthur made a rumbling sound of approval.

He stroked Merlin's back with a gentle hand. He murmured an incoherent noise of affection, feeling himself drift off to sleep. Somehow, he managed actual words and murmured, "We should clean up."

"Shh. Not yet. Let it absorb," Merlin soothed, and that was all that Arthur remembered before he fell asleep, holding on to Merlin.

It seemed as if only minutes had passed when Arthur jolted awake, out of sorts.

The insistent trill of an incoming phone call, the lack of warmth at his side, the shuffling of fabric nearby -- Arthur quickly glanced at his clock and realized that it wasn't a few minutes, but several hours later. He blinked repeatedly before he realized that those red numbers on his clock read out several minutes past midnight. Bleary-eyed, feeling crusty from the come that had dried on his skin, Arthur sat up slowly, confused as he watched Merlin get dressed, his phone against his ear.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned, and Arthur froze. 

A knot in his jaw was all that held back suppressed anger. Bright blue eyes made brighter by a reflective, golden rim. The clench of Merlin's knuckles, the tension in his stance, a faint echo of a warning rattle.

As quickly as it had appeared, the bright glow in Merlin's eyes faded and he looked away. _A trick of the light_ , Arthur told himself.

"There's been a break in at the university," Merlin explained after a moment, but he could barely get the next words out. They were choked up and raw when he said, "I told Gwaine. I _warned_ him. Those sons of bitches hit the lab."

 

 

The burglary occurred while the federal agent assigned to watch the herpetology lab had gone to grab a late dinner when his relief failed to show. They found his backup stuffed in the trunk of his car on the other side of the building, two bullet wounds in his head.

"Fuck's sake," Merlin muttered. He ran his hands through his hair again -- it was already standing up on its own without any additional encouragement, but now, he looked more like a mad scientist than usual.

Emphasis on _mad_. 

The campus was a war zone of flashing lights -- ambulances, police cars, unmarked vehicles. Bright lights illuminated the forensic collection of evidence, yellow tape expanded the crime scene perimeter, and the area was a logistical nightmare of students emerging from the library, the cafeteria, and their dormitories to rubberneck the disaster, take selfies with their phones, and record video of blank-faced police officers and campus cops who were trying to keep them out of the way.

The situation was not helped by the appearance of the local news van, the reporter primping herself up before pasting on a fake-serious expression as the cameraman counted her down.

Arthur didn't try to placate Merlin -- he didn't think it would be appreciated. Merlin's life work was in a building that he couldn't access, and all he knew was that what was supposedly a secure laboratory had been broken into and burgled. The extent to which his research had been ruined and would have to be reproduced was unknown, and it was clear to Arthur that Merlin was having an internal meltdown.

If the situation was reversed and Arthur's years of compiled cancer research was under threat of having disappeared, Arthur didn't think he would be handling the situation half as well.

Will burst through the gathering crowd and joined them, staring at the building with an indescribable expression. He looked to have run out of his apartment while barely stopping to put on clothes; the shirt he wore had holes in it and was so faded that Arthur couldn't tell if it had once been a band logo or something beer-related. "I know I locked it," he said finally.

"You did," Merlin said, dropping his arms. He paced in the small space that they had, though the students surrounding them gave him a wide berth. "They checked the records already. The lab was locked down tight. They tore the security console out of the wall, cut the lines, and walked in."

Will gave Merlin an incredulous look. " _They_ _tore the console out of the wall?_ "

"I'm going to find the fucking contractor who built the lab and rip him a new one," Merlin threatened. "He didn't reinforce the wall. It was all plasterboard."

"Fuck's sake," Will said. If the situation weren't so dire, Arthur would have laughed. The two of them had clearly known each other a long time if they were swearing the same way. "I knew something was up with that group."

"Gwaine wants to talk to you about that tour," Merlin said.

"He'll want Freya too, then. She ran most of the interference. The blonde with sharp teeth tried to get past us and into the lab a couple of times," Will said. "Took a fancy to a couple of the cages, wanted to know what snakes we had. We mostly dodged the questions, you know, that vague bullshit that we give the tours because usually it goes over their head, but the Dean whipped out the list from his tour book and gave it to them."

"He what?" Merlin's eyes were wide. His jaw worked soundlessly before he managed, "I'm going to kill him."

"He signs your paycheck," Will reminded him.

"No, he doesn't," Merlin said. "Also, I've got tenure. I'm pretty sure that means I've got immunity if I commit justifiable homicide."

Arthur glanced around them, but luckily, most of the students were talking amongst themselves and didn't seem to have overheard what Merlin said. Given the situation, justification for murder wouldn't be difficult to obtain -- though it would be a hard sell in court. That would go out the window in a hurry if it turned out that _justifiable homicide_ was also premeditated.

He wondered if Morgana knew any good criminal lawyers.

Activity on the other side of the yellow line caught their attention long enough that Merlin settled down. After several minutes of watching Gwaine talking to several other men wearing blue windbreakers with big white FBI letters on the back, the tension emanating from Merlin rose to suffocating levels. Arthur thought he was going to have to hold Merlin back from lunging into the crime scene.

Gwaine scanned the crowd and jogged over when he spotted Merlin. "Merlin, I --"

Merlin held up a hand. Whatever apologies Gwaine had been about to make, Merlin wasn't in the mood. Gwaine had already apologized six times -- once for every time he needed to talk to Merlin about the situation. "Just tell me how bad the damage is."

Gwaine hesitated. He pulled up his trousers and scratched his scruffy jaw. "Well. The good news is, they might have killed the security feed, but there's enough video from the other cameras catching them heading toward the lab to place them at the scene."

"Bad news. I want to hear the bad news," Merlin said.

"No, you really don't," Gwaine said, guilty and miserable. "The entire basement level is a mess. Our forensic teams went in to start collecting the data but they pulled back. There's a lot of snakes loose, Merlin. We don't know which ones are missing."

The noise that escaped Merlin's chest was a whine that broke Arthur's heart. He rubbed a hand down Merlin's back comfortingly.

"They want to gas the area --"

"No," Merlin said firmly. "Absolutely not."

"They say it's the only way that they can get in to get evidence," Gwaine said, withering under Merlin's glare. "They refuse to go in. They heard _venomous snakes_ , saw them squirming around, and said, _Nope_. Wait, wait, don't --"

Merlin ducked under the yellow tape. Will followed after him. By virtue of being more concerned for Merlin's well-being than his own, Arthur was last in the chain, but he was quick to catch up. Gwaine hurried ahead of them and blocked their path.

"Hear me out. I've talked to my boss. He's willing to give you a chance to clear the area without resorting to killing the snakes, but he said, under absolutely no circumstances are we responsible if something happens to you --"

"Fine," Merlin said, not the least bit concerned that he would be walking in a danger zone. Arthur felt as if he should protest, but his mind flashed back to the scars on Merlin's body -- snakebites, perfect and round, dotting his arms, his back, his chest like needlepoints; other bites that weren't so clean, tearing away flesh and muscle -- 

Arthur glanced up to see Merlin watching him from the corner of his eye, holding himself as if he were expecting bad news, as if he expected Arthur to do or say something that he wouldn't like. But when Arthur only shrugged and shook his head, Merlin gave him a private little smile and turned back to Gwaine. Of course Arthur was worried that Merlin would be wandering into a viper's pit, herding all the strays into a safe location. He trusted that Merlin knew what he was doing. Best of all, despite his anxiety about the situation, he was glad to have pleased Merlin, even if all he had done was refuse to interfere.

Gwaine scratched the side of his throat, grimacing as if he'd expected Merlin's answer, and said, "Yeah, that's what I thought. He's going to want to send in forensics after you, make sure you don't disturb the evidence. Let me arrange --"

Arthur stopped listening. He moved closer to Merlin, letting his fingers linger on Merlin's hip. Merlin shifted his weight, sliding closer to Arthur.

"We only have one suit," Will said, as a matter of fact.

"You know I don't use it," Merlin said, staring after Gwaine with an intensity Arthur could only describe as murderous. 

"Right," Will said, crossing his arms. "I wish I'd worn underpants."

Arthur glanced down by reflex, this time paying more attention to Will's clothes. His pants weren't merely ugly plaid, but pyjama pants that were worn thin, nearly with as many holes as his shirt.

"I think we all wish you did," Merlin said, but whatever amusement he might have had was marred by the flatness of his tone.

"No, you don't get it," Will said. "If I go in there, and Kilgharrah's out and he jumps at me, I can't promise that I'll have good bladder discipline. Nobody will want to wear the suit after that --"

"Fuck's sake, Will," Merlin muttered, running his hands over his head. 

"Should I call the others? Mordred, at least? He's the only one who's been trained to handle all the snakes, other than us two. It'll make going through the lab a whole lot easier, having an extra pair of hands," Will said.

"He's not ready," Merlin said distantly. Then, as if realizing that it was an unusual thing to say, a frown crossed his expression and he shook his head. "We only have one suit, remember?"

"Right," Will said, glancing at Merlin strangely. They all caught sight of Gwaine returning, waving an arm in the air to invite them in. "I guess that's our cue."

"I'll be right there," Merlin said. Will glanced between Merlin and Arthur, hesitated, and nodded.

Will ducked under the yellow tape, where he was immediately stopped by one of the security guards positioned along the perimeter. Gwaine waved Will through, and Will stuck his tongue out before heading up the rise. 

"I --" Merlin ran his thumb over his eyebrow and huffed in frustration. "This isn't the way I wanted the evening to go."

"I'm not complaining," Arthur said. He caught himself, shook his head. "Not really. I mean, we both could do without everything else, couldn't we?"

"Yeah," Merlin said with a sigh. He looked wistful as he reached to straighten the collar of Arthur's coat, his fingers brushing at a tender spot on Arthur's neck. A spark of electricity shot through him, and Arthur bit back a startled moan at how quickly his cock thickened. His reaction brought a wicked smile to Merlin's lips. "There's so much more that I want to do. That I need to do. I hate leaving things undone, and…"

Arthur both flushed and frowned, unable to ignore the significance of what Merlin's said, and confused at the strange undertone to his words.

"There's always later," he said.

"Later," Merlin said, his smile sudden and abrupt, a complete contrast to the angry scowl he'd worn ever since Gwaine called with the bad news. The smile faded slowly, wistfully, and he glanced over his shoulder at the science building behind him. "This is going to take a while. My lab's not small. I had a lot of snakes. It's not just my lab we're going to have to search, it's the building, too. Some of them are escape artist -- they'll find a way through the filters in the vents. Then, when that's done, we have to sort out what they took, and --"

Arthur put his hand on Merlin's cheek, startling him into silence. "Do what you have to do. I'll be here when you're done. Here --"

He fished his keys out of his pocket and took one from the ring, pressing it in Merlin's hand.

"For after, if you don't want to go back to your place," Arthur said. He hoped that Merlin wouldn't, since Merlin had admitted his tiny one-bedroom wasn't as secure as Arthur's apartment building. 

Merlin stared down at the key in his hand as if he didn't understand what it was. Arthur knew the moment that Merlin realized, because his head shot up. "Arthur."

Arthur didn't know what he expected. For Merlin to give him the key back, insisting that he would be all right, or, worse, that it was too soon to trade keys. For Merlin to refuse, to walk away, to --

Merlin kissed him instead, warm and soft, the sort of kiss between a couple that has been together for decades, lingering, possessive, welcome. When he pulled away, Arthur heard cat-calls and wolf-whistles rise up from around them.

"Later," Merlin said, adding the key to his own keychain. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Call me anytime," Arthur said. "I may as well go to the hospital, do the rounds I skipped out on."

Arthur watched Merlin disappear behind the yellow tape, all but vanishing in the crowd of uniforms and dress suits. He craned his neck and spotted Merlin and Will in intense conversation with several men and one woman from the forensics unit, no doubt instructing the federal agents on what to do if they came face-to-face with a snake. Arthur lingered until he saw the group head into the building. He would have stayed longer, but there wasn't much to see, and he knew his nerves would get the better of him if he didn't distract himself.

At this time of the night, the streets were nearly empty, and it took him half the time as usual to get to the hospital. He parked in his designated spot and stayed where he was for a few more minutes, trying to gather up the energy to get up and go in. He could go home. He didn't expressly need to do his rounds. His residents would have taken care of that. 

Responsibility, more than anything else, had him cracking the car door open and forcing himself out. He went to his locker in the largely-empty staff change room, and contemplated taking a shower when his hand brushed over a stomach that was still crusty with dried come. He was about to do just that when he heard the creak of the door, hastily puling his shirt down before anyone could see.

"Doctor," one of the residents said, too bleary-eyed to identify Arthur properly. He headed for his locker in the corner of the room, pressed his head against the cool metal, and didn't move.

Arthur left the doctor to contemplate his navel, evaluate his life choices, and to catch a couple of minutes of sleep in private before he was called out again. It wasn't until he'd looped his stethoscope around his neck and adjusted his ID badge that Arthur remembered the shower.

He sniffed himself surreptitiously, but couldn't tell what he smelled like over the pervasive smell of antiseptic in the room. If he couldn't smell it, odds were that his patients wouldn't, either, not if he didn't let them close enough. Arthur decided that he could live with the discomfort of matted hair and itchy skin for a little while longer, but he was barely an hour into checking his patients when it started to drive him crazy.

A shower in his near future was looking more and more likely. Arthur signed off on a chart and jolted when his phone rang. He fumbled it out of the awkward pockets of his scrubs and was disappointed when it wasn't Merlin.

"Do you know it's three A.M.?" Arthur answered gruffly.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry," Lance said, though he didn't sound apologetic at all. He was exhausted, and his standard response was flat and drowsy. "What time is it anyway?"

"Three --" Arthur started to say, and shook his head. "How long have you been on call?"

"That's the thing," Lance said, more alert this time. Nothing woke a doctor up better than the opportunity to complain about their shifts. "I'm not supposed to be on call. There was that car accident this morning that I ended up staying late for, Morgana roped me in to help her evaluate Agravaine's reports --"

Arthur winced, feeling guilty.

"And the next thing I know, half the ER staff is down with the flu and my name is on the board when it's not supposed to be. Do you know the worst part? I just remembered I had a date with Gwen --"

Arthur winced again, but only because he knew that the two had been trying to get their schedules to sync for months.

"-- and she hasn't answered my apology text, and that was hours ago," Lance said, sighing.

"Flowers, chocolate, and a trip to Las Vegas," Arthur counselled. "But start with a whole lot of grovelling. Do you need a hand? My ward is quiet tonight, and I still remember my ER rotation."

"You're in the building?" Lance asked, perking up audibly. "Yes, definitely, get yourself downstairs. It's a full moon, though, so bring a spare shirt."

"Right, I remember that part," Arthur said gleefully "I'll be right down."

"Thanks -- oh, and Arthur? I almost forgot why I called." 

Arthur half-expected Lance needed a consult, which sometimes happened, but he would've had one of the ER nurses page whoever was actually on call instead of dialling Arthur directly. "What's that?"

"Remember when you asked me to keep an eye out for people with snakebites? We just had someone come in. I'd have waited to tell you about it over lunch tomorrow, but the patient's male, mid-thirties, dark hair, lean build. I thought it might be your Merlin, but --"

The phone call cut out when Arthur pushed frantically at the elevator, the doors closing behind him, too blind with panic to realize that Lance hadn't said if it was Merlin or not. It couldn't be Merlin. Merlin knew how to handle snakes. If he had gotten a snake bite, he would be fine.

Wouldn't he?

Arthur bounced impatiently in the elevator as it _ding_ ed its slow way down to the lower floors. When the doors finally opened, he tried to shove them open faster only to crash right into Lance, who barely caught them both from going tumbling to the floor.

"Arthur! _Arthur_! It's not Merlin. It's not, I promise! I just looked at the chart --"

Arthur wrenched the chart out of Lance's hands and looked for himself, practically wrenching the cover off. He exhaled heavily when he didn't recognize the man's name. Jeffrey Morris, whoever he was, had come in with a rattlesnake bite on his hand.

The air went out of Arthur's lungs as his panic came to a sudden, crashing stop. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and when his vision was no longer narrowing from lack of oxygen, he realized that Lance had guided him to an empty examination room. Lance stopped short of making Arthur sit down with his head between his knees, and instead crouched down and asked, "What's this about?"

"It's just --" Arthur forced himself to calm down. "There was a break-in at Merlin's lab earlier tonight. They think some of the snakes were stolen. Merlin had to go in to clean up the area for the police because the snakes were out of their cages. I panicked. That's all."

Arthur gave Lance his most reassuring expression -- he'd perfected the art of it long before medical school, thanks to Morgana -- but couldn't hold it in place, not when Lance's brows furrowed into a frown.

"What is it?"

"That guy," Lance said, nodding toward the paperwork that was now crumpled in Arthur's hands. Lance tugged it free gently, but not gently enough; some of the paper tore before Arthur let it go. "His girlfriend brought him in. She said he got bitten while hiking."

"So?"

"So," Lance said, with far more patience than Arthur would have had after a double shift, "They sure aren't dressed for hiking. Also, what time did you tell me it was? Who goes hiking at night?"

"Shit," Arthur said. He grabbed lance's shoulder and hauled himself to his feet. Blood rushed to his head, but he managed to make it out of the examining room. "Where are they?"

"Arthur --" 

"I know what they look like," Arthur said, rounding in on Lance. "If it's the same people, that's pretty strong evidence that they're involved in the robbery. I just want to take a quick look at them, and I'll tell Merlin so that he can tell his cop friend to come here and arrest them."

"Do they know what you look like?" Lance said, because, of course, he would be the voice of reason. Arthur's jaw clamped shut while he tried to remember if Cenred and Morgause had ever glanced in his direction at the church. Erring on the side of _I sure hope not_ , Arthur shook his head.

"Just a quick look," Arthur said.

Lance looked uncertain. "I don't like this. If they recognize you --"

"It's a chance I'll have to take," Arthur begged. He tried a different tactic. "If someone broke into Gwen's lab and destroyed all of her research, wouldn't you do whatever you could to make sure that the people involved were punished?"

"Low blow," Lance said, letting Arthur go. He pushed Arthur down the corridor and lowered his voice. "Fine, follow my lead. I'll point them out to you. Don't go near them, don't talk to them, don't make eye contact. You look and you leave. I'll distract them."

Arthur nodded, happy for the assist. He followed Lance to the main area, staying put at the nurse's station when Lance pointed at him to stay put. Arthur helped himself to a chart in a poor attempt to look busy and watched Lance head toward one of the curtained sections. Lance pushed the curtains wide open as he walked in, but an emergency service crew emerged through the automatic doors, pushing a gurney, several packs of equipment, and a patient to the nearest available area.

When the crowd cleared, Arthur had the perfect view of the man lying on the bed.

Cenred.

Cenred was lying on top of the blankets, his boots muddy with fresh grass and soil, his jeans dirty at the knees. He wore a dark shirt and a sweater, the left sleeve of which had been cut open to give the staff space to work. From the twisted expression on his face and the swelling in his left hand, it was clear that Cenred was in a great deal of pain.

Except for Lance and an emergency room nurse checking vitals, Cenred was alone.

Arthur might have stared at Cenred a little too long. He stood rooted on the spot even when Cenred turned away from whatever Lance was telling him and looked straight at Arthur. Cenred's brow furrowed, but otherwise his expression remained unchanged.

Arthur abruptly twisted on his heel, handed the chart to the nearest nurse, thanked her for absolutely nothing at all, and headed the other way.

He waited until he was out of sight before pulling his phone out of his pocket and pulling up Merlin's contact details.

The call rang several times before going straight to voice mail. Arthur cursed. Merlin must either still be working to collect the snakes and had left his phone behind, or it was on mute so that the snakes wouldn't be startled. He almost hung up until he remembered that he didn't have anyone else's phone numbers, and left a message instead.

"I hope you're all right," Arthur began. "You need to get Gwaine to the hospital right away. Do you remember the guy at the church? The one who was waving the snake around and nearly had Elena bitten? Well, he's here, his arm swollen up with a rattlesnake bite. One of your snakes must have gotten him. His girlfriend dropped him off, I don't know where she is --"

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of hurried footsteps, dismissing them as additional emergency crews passed by at the other end of the hallway. He saw a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. He started to turn around, only to be distracted by the rumble of an orderly's cart clickclick _clicking_ past.

"But she's got to be here somewhere. I'm going to tell my friend Lance to keep them here as long as he can -- it'll be a while yet, because that bite looks bad and they're treating him now."

A sharp, hard jab in his ribs made Arthur gasp in surprise and stutter over his next words. He glanced down and turned as much as he could with a firm hand on his shoulder holding him in place.

It was a gun.

"Hang up," a woman said. Arthur looked up, and saw Morgause in the reflection on the glass partition in the corridor.

She jammed the gun harder into his side. Arthur pulled the phone away from his ear and ran his thumb over the phone, pretending to hang up. He wanted to record as much as he could so that Merlin would know what happened to him. Morgause foiled his plan, however, when she yanked the phone out of his hand and ended the call.

"Keep your arms down," Morgause said. There was a smile on her face and her tone was anything but pleasant. "We're best friends, haven't seen each other in a while. We'll walk out as if we're just going to go and catch up. Do you understand?"

"I --"

"You so much as twitch, I'm going to shoot everyone in this hospital, starting with you and your _friend_ , Lance," Morgause said. 

Arthur swallowed and nodded.

Morgause stayed close enough to hide her gun, guiding Arthur further down the corridor until they reached a stairwell. She pushed him through the door, and beyond that, through the side entrance that the smokers used when they wanted to have a break away from the main entrance and the public eye. Arthur's hope that someone might be there -- an annoyed Agravaine who would use the opportunity to rant and rave would have been acceptable – but the hope was dashed when the area surrounding the exit was empty except for old cigarette butts.

"Over there," Morgause snapped. She shoved Arthur roughly forward. He stumbled, caught himself, and thought about attacking her, but nothing in his martial arts training throughout medical school had taught him how to disable an opponent with a gun. In fact, he distinctly remembered his instructor telling the class to hand over their wallets and leave the fancy footwork to the movies.

Arthur was pretty sure that Morgause wasn't interested in his wallet. He'd left it in his locker, anyway.

She shoved him again, and this time, he clued in on where she was taking him. Tucked along the far side of the hospital, in the section of the parking lot that was always dark because the lights always shorted out, was a small box truck. It looked like any other box truck in an unremarkable white the mud flaps cracked with age. A faded business logo was on the side barely visible in the dim light.

"What do you want from me?" Arthur asked, looking over his shoulder. "What are you going to do? I won't tell anyone where you are --"

"But that's the problem, isn't it, sweetheart? You already told someone," Morgause sneered. "Congratulations, you're our hostage now."

Arthur stumbled into the rear fender of the box truck and cut his hand on the dented metal. He noticed that there was no license plate.

"Open it," Morgause ordered.

Arthur shook out his hand -- it was a scrape, nothing deep -- and struggled with the rusty latch. He managed to flip it, and once it was out of the hook, the roll door jerked upward until it was open. A light inside automatically flickered on. It was blindingly bright at first, dimming to a ghostly blue hue.

The inside of the box truck was disgusting. The floor was smeared with filth and stained with fluids that Arthur didn't want to identify for his own peace of mind. It smelled awful, like ammonia and mould, decomposition and metal. Reinforced shelves lined both sides and the front; there were several crates inside. On the shelves were --

Squirmy, roiling things, all in flimsy cages made of glass, wire, or wood.

The snakes. Merlin's snakes.

The gun struck the back of Arthur's head. He could feel the nozzle against his skull.

"Get in," Morgause said coldly.

"Uh," Arthur said, trying to decide if he'd rather die of snakebite or a gunshot wound to the head. Morgause didn't give him much of a chance to decide. There was a faint click that was more felt than heard, and Arthur imagined that it was the safety being turned off.

He climbed in the box truck, careful not to jostle the springs too much and aggravate the snakes. It didn't seem to matter, because the snakes certainly looked angry enough. To be safe, Arthur stayed in the middle, not wanting to touch anything.

"Move up," Morgause said, waggling her gun.

Arthur obeyed.

Morgause stepped up on the rear fender, reached up to catch the frayed strap, and dragged the door down before Arthur could react. The light flickered out, the latch _gr-gr-gr_ ated shut, and Arthur was trapped in the pitch black of an unmarked box truck, surrounded by snakes.

No one knew where he was. He was going to die. He'd never see Merlin again.

"Fuck."

 

 

In the storage room where they kept Arthur prisoner, there were two scratches on the wall. He'd been about to mark the third day of his imprisonment when two men dragged him out.

Arthur blinked the dust out of his eyes and resisted the urge to rub them. For one thing, it would make the burning sensation worse. For another, any sudden movements would alert the snakes around him to his presence, if they weren't already aware.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Arthur shifted out of his kneeling position and stood up, wanting to make himself less of a target. He had to catch himself once he was on his feet, dehydration, hunger and exhaustion robbing him of any proper sense of balance. The jerk of motion to keep himself upright made several snakes slither closer, and Arthur froze, his body trembling from the constant overload of adrenaline.

In the distance, a door opened and closed. Above Arthur, the metal catwalk reverberated with the _clang-thump_ of heavy footsteps. The snakes either migrated toward or away from the noise.

"Have the snakes bitten him yet?" Cenred asked.

Morgause waved down in Arthur's direction in a gesture that could only mean, _see for yourself_.

Arthur had only been in the pit for an hour. They'd dumped the snakes out almost immediately afterward. Cenred had done something to rile them up in the beginning, but they'd quickly settled down, still and quiet, masses of snakes tangling together in a nest. The knots of smooth, shiny bodies were slowly coming apart, and Arthur guessed that it was night or close to it. Weren't snakes more active at night as a general rule, or was he mixing up his predators?

A black snake broke from the circle around Arthur, slithered in a straight line to the other side, completely ignoring him.

That was surreal. _That was so weird_. 

Arthur wasn't an expert in snake behaviour. He wasn't an expert in snakes, period. He’d only slept with a herpetologist once, and as far as he knew, all of Merlin's knowledge and experience hadn't transferred to Arthur through osmosis.

But he could appreciate the very real fact that he'd been in this pit for far longer than he was comfortable with, and none of the snakes had come near him. If anything, they stayed well clear of him.

He didn't know if that was by design or by intent. If the snakes had had some sort of meeting behind closed doors and unanimously agreed to _terrorize the human_ before eating him. More likely, though, none of the snakes were particularly hungry, and as long as Arthur wasn't a threat, they'd leave him alone.

The irrational part of Arthur's mind kept coming up with worst case scenarios, and the latest one to have occurred to him was the mental image of the snakes flying at him and latching on with their fangs much in the same way that bees flocked around beekeepers, covering them like a living, buzzing coat.

Arthur shivered, completely hysterical but enough in control of himself not to start giggling like a hyena.

Cenred huffed, displeased. "Shoot him. Maybe that'll get the snakes worked up enough."

Morgause scoffed. "You've been around snakes enough to know it doesn't work that way."

"What do we do with him, then? They're coming soon. He can't be here, it'll ruin the show," Cenred said.

"Then use him. Make him part of the show," Morgause said. She stood up straight from where she was leaning over the railing to watch Arthur and the snakes and faced Cenred. "Let the Believers watch someone die from snake venom. The impact will be better and stronger. The preacher will trip over himself to give us the money. We leave them the snakes, and when that's done, we _leave_."

Arthur glanced up, but only for a moment. He didn't want to take his eyes from the snakes, but at the same time, he struggled to parse what he'd just heard. Were Morgause and Cenred continuing with their con? Was all this some sort of elaborate show to get money from parishioners who didn't have a great deal of money to begin with? 

And then it sank in. They planned on killing him.

Cenred exhaled heavily, looking down at Arthur with a contemplative frown. "I'll think about it."

"Think quickly," Morgause snapped. "They'll be here soon. I'm going to go change. You should put your suit on. Make sure your gaiters are covered up properly this time."

Morgause stalked out, her footfalls ringing on the metal catwalk. A door opened and closed. Once she was gone, Arthur felt… relieved? She was the more callous and merciless of the two.

Arthur chanced a glance up. He found Cenred watching him. The other man was pale, a little on the sickly side, no doubt still recovering from the snakebite he'd received. Even from where Arthur stood, he could see the faint sheen of sweat on Cenred's brow, a pain-pinch in his expression, and a subtle body tremble from nerve damage. His left hand was wrapped in a light bandage, two fingers swaddled beneath surgical tape. His palm and forearm were still a little swollen, and it wasn't entirely clear from Arthur's position whether the dark colour of his skin hinted to additional damage, or if it could be considered part of the normal healing sequence of a snakebite wound. Still, under different circumstances, Cenred would still be in the hospital, being monitored.

"They should be biting you," Cenred mused, tilting his head in consideration. "Why aren't they biting you?"

Arthur couldn’t find it in him to answer. 

He didn't have to, because Cenred narrowed his eyes and stood up straight. "Well. It's not like I care. Enjoy the last hour of your life."

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound vibrating down into the pit. The snakes became livelier for several long minutes before settling down, and after a while they seemed to merely be laying there, resting. Arthur thought that was a good idea, because he was wavering on his own two feet, barely able to stay upright. Moving with just as much economy as before, Arthur slowly sank to the ground, his legs under him, ready to spring up if he needed to.

He knuckled his eyes, brushing the dirt out of them. He looked around, pointedly ignoring the snakes in a feeble attempt to keep from giving himself a fear-related heart attack, and studied the pit.

Whatever the building had been before, it had clearly been hastily reconverted, at least at Arthur's level. The floor was covered in dirt, but there were some areas where it hadn't been evenly distributed, and he could see raw wood beneath. The black walls were rounded, as if he were in a silo of some sort, and Arthur would have guessed that they were made out of metal. There were no openings, not from the ground.

Above him and all around the mouth of the opening was metal piping fencing in the pit. The catwalk overhead was split in a T, though Arthur knew that the longer length was electronically controlled, lowered by a powerful motor to act as a ladder. It was how Morgause and one of the nameless cronies had managed to put Arthur in the middle of the pit.

The ladder was up, now, out of Arthur's reach. Even if he were a good foot taller and capable of a tremendous vertical jump, there was no way that he could catch it. Short of an under-the-floor exit, there was no escape that Arthur could see.

He was well and truly trapped.

"Fuck," he muttered, and instantly regretted making noise. The snakes continued to ignore him, and Arthur sagged onto himself, shaking under the crushing weight of emotion.

He was _terrified_.

He was terrified of the snakes. Of what Cenred and Morgause would do to him. Of what was going to happen in the next while.

He was terrified that he'd never see his friends again. That he'd never see Elena thrive and live her life now that she was tumour-free. That he'd never…

He suppressed a whimper. What he wouldn't give to be able to hold Merlin in his arms one more time. To use the opportunity to whisper _I love you_ like Arthur should have done before leaving Merlin two nights ago. It didn't matter that he'd already admitted his feelings to Merlin. It mattered that he'd never actually said those words.

Arthur's stomach clenched. He wanted to throw up. If his stomach wasn't so empty and his body desperate for liquids, he would've gotten rid of whatever bile was in his body.

Finally, because there was nothing else that he could do, he watched the snakes. Some of the snakes faced him; Arthur couldn't tell if they were watching him, too. For the most part, the snakes were calm, quiet, unperturbed, and Arthur hoped that they would stay that way. He couldn't explain why the snakes weren't coming for him. It was cool in the pit and he was a warm body, but they were staying well away.

He glanced down at himself. His scrubs were filthy. There was dried blood and vomit on his shirt. He hadn't showered or washed himself. Hell, the hair on his chest and belly was still somewhat matted, gummed together from two-day-old come. He was disgusting. If he were his own patient at the hospital, he'd ask for an orderly to delouse himself before he so much as came near. He didn't blame the snakes if he offended their sense of smell.

Did snakes have a sense of smell? Arthur would have to ask Merlin that when…

When this was over. _If_ it would ever end.

Arthur ran his hands over his head. His fingers grabbed tuffs of hair and he yanked, letting the pain distract him from the need to yell, to shout, to scream.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, his body rocking as he fought to hold himself together. The worst part wasn't the snakes. He could deal with the snakes. It was not knowing what Morgause or Cenred would do. It was not knowing if he'd make it out of this alive. 

It was never seeing Merlin again.

A door creaked open. Footsteps clanked on the metal walkway, muffled as they passed onto the cement floor overhead. There were so many footsteps that the noise vibrated down, deafening Arthur, agitating the snakes. Coiled bodies squirmed and looped, slithered and knotted onto themselves. Several snakes reared back as if to strike, but none of them were close enough to Arthur to be dangerous, and they weren't really paying attention to him, anyway.

People began to crowd around the pit up above, leaning against the pipe railing. Women and men, most of them young, some of them in their middle ages, all dressed in what seemed to be a uniform. The men were all in clean, pressed slacks and short-sleeved shirts; the women in simple long dresses, their long hair bound back. 

They reminded Arthur of the people at the snake-handling faith-healing church that Elena had dragged him to all those weeks ago. He didn't recognize any of the people milling around overhead, but that didn't mean anything since he hadn't been paying much attention in the first place. Either they were from a different church, or they had been hand-picked by Cenred and Morgause because they were particularly wealthy targets. Arthur neither knew nor cared. 

He couldn't help searching their faces, looking for someone familiar. Maybe Gwaine was undercover once again. Merlin would be with him, the two of them doing whatever they could to safely extricate Arthur from the pit.

The faces blurred, and it took Arthur a moment to realize that he couldn't see clearly through his own tears of growing panic.

 _Help me! Get me out of here!_ he wanted to scream. The words burned in his throat. He had a feeling that he should save his breath, that no one would come to help him.

They were here to watch him die.

Arthur forced himself to calm down. He counted his respiratory rate until his heart wasn't racing at breakneck speeds anymore. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and once his vision cleared, he looked around again, memorizing the faces of these Believers who wouldn't do so much as lift a finger to help him.

He would witness them all in Hell.

Once settled around the pit, no one moved. A few people exchanged glances; there was a flicker of concern in their expressions. Not a word was spoken, and several women and a handful of men bowed their heads, their hands pressed together in prayer.

Several long minutes passed. A distant door opened and clanged shut. A solemn mood fell over the crowd. People parted, allowing passage, and Cenred walked on the metal catwalk that was fixed over one tangent of the circle overhead. Morgause was right behind him.

Morgause was unremarkable; her makeup was gone, her hair brushed straight of its tangle of curls and allowed to fall down her back in long, exaggerated waves. Her dress was a pale yellow cotton shift. Her heavy boots were gone, replaced by matronly flats. Cenred had changed into dark trousers and a navy blue shirt and tie, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He seemed bulkier, somehow, broader in the shoulder, thicker in the chest, his trousers tight across his legs.

He didn't speak. He regarded everyone with something like contempt; the crowd was quick to hush.

"Your pastor is a fraud," Cenred said. 

It was such a simple statement, spoken in a conversational tone, that no one reacted right away. In the silence that stretched out, his words sank in and the congregation murmured between themselves, some going so far as to express their outrage by banging fists on the piping. The noise rattled down to the pit, and the snakes churned around Arthur.

Cenred waited for the protests to die down before he spoke again. "You've been his faithful for years. For decades. You've listened to his sermons, prayed with him and given your hard earned money to support your church, and what have you gotten in return? Has your church risen from the ground? Have more joined the rank of Believers? What of all those promises made to bring the congregation to the glory of God? Has he done any of these things? Or has he been pocketing your money and usurping your good will for his own ends?"

Cenred paused. After a moment he waved to the pit below. Arthur nearly missed how his injured hand had been cleverly disguised with flesh-coloured bandages and makeup, hiding the swollen, gaping snakebite that his wound should still be, even after a few days of healing. Only a very close observer would note how his left arm was more swollen than the other.

"I don't mean to make you doubt your pastor. I'm certain he is a good man, deep, deep down. He does his best in all things, as do we all. He gives generously to charity, he counsels his parishioners, and above all, he lives a life of piety.

"But I will tell you a story. It's the story of a man who was absolutely devoted to his parish. He was a true Believer in all things. He owned very little, having donated nearly everything he owned to the poor. He was more concerned with ensuring that his congregation was happy. He scorned material things and drove a vehicle that had seen better days to get to town where he worked in a soup kitchen nearly every night.

"He was no different than your pastor. And just like your pastor, over time, the strength of his faith waned. There was too much evil in the world. He had seen too much of it. Families were broken apart and he could do nothing to help them. His church was broken into and articles of faith were stolen. Some young punks vandalized his car.

"The strength of a person's faith reflects the purity of their spirit, but sometimes, sometimes, that's not enough. Sometimes, sometimes, a man's faith fails him. And in shame, that man does everything he can to keep the last thing that he has left -- his pride.

"The man I knew continued to tend to his congregation. But he could no longer bless them the way they needed to be blessed. His counsels lacked the wisdom of God. When the weak and the infirm came to him looking for healing and solace, he couldn't lay his hands on them and grant them solace. He lived in such fear of discovery that if he touched a snake during his sermons, he made absolutely certain that this snake couldn't bite him. He had lost everything else. He couldn't lose his church. So he _lied_."

Cenred stopped pacing on the walkway, and Arthur relaxed only marginally. The snakes were still agitated, but at least the masses stopped seeming like a singular, writhing thing.

"I must ask you a very hard question. When was the last time you saw your pastor handle snakes like mine? Healthy and vibrant, alive with the power of God? Or has he only ever used baby snakes too young to produce cleansing venom, or adult snakes that have been so starved, their bodies unable to properly envenom their handler with the holy Spirit?"

Cenred gave his audience a long, torturous minute to study the pit. While everyone's attention was elsewhere, Cenred's gaze turned to Arthur and his expression momentarily darkened. 

"If your pastor asked you to stand in a pit of snakes like these, would you trust in the power of his beliefs to keep you safe while you are anointed with their blessing?"

The quiet murmur to ripple through the crowd didn't last, and most stared at their hands.

"You are all Believers," Cenred said. "Faithful and steadfast. Your own light would shine through and keep you safe where your pastor would not. But imagine… Imagine if you had no faith at all. Imagine that you weren't blessed with the holy Spirit. Imagine that you were a man of science, a physician, a _doctor_."

Cenred spat the last word out as if it were a curse.

"Do you think your pastor would be able to protect such a person? Would he stand between them and the devil to protect them like a good Christian? Or would he turn his back on them and let them die?"

Arthur couldn't hear the crowd's response over the blood roaring in his ears. Cenred was good. He was a showman. He knew how to appeal to a person's base emotions. The parishioners around the open pit might be regarding Cenred with hope and growing awe, but Arthur could only hear his doom.

"This man has been in a pit of vipers for over an hour," Cenred said. It wasn't Arthur's imagination that Cenred sounded unhappy to discover that Arthur was still alive. "He has been kept safe by the power of my faith. If not for me, he would be dead right now --"

"Bullshit."

Cenred's head snapped up and he looked around, searching for the speaker. Morgause's glare was murderous. Cenred forced a smile onto his face and smarmily said, "My holy Spirit is so strong that it works from afar --"

"You're right," a very familiar voice said. The crowd shifted in waves, as if trying to suss out the speaker. "I can smell it from over here. It's awfully potent. Vile, even."

"Eau de Conman, I think it's called," Gwaine said. He made an appearance at one end of the catwalk, grabbing both sides of the railway, blocking an escape route. "Not exactly a best-seller. Costs someone ten to twenty in maximum security."

The crowd exchanged uncertain glances. Someone snorted. Arthur thought he saw Will.

"You know, a good Christian wouldn't make someone else suffer so that they can show off the power of their so-called faith," Merlin said, coming to stand at the railing nearest the crosswalk. He looked different, somehow. Arthur couldn't place what it was. Merlin was dressed the same way he had worn on that night when Arthur had first seen him. He'd probably done it to fit in and get inside.

For Arthur. To rescue Arthur.

Part of Arthur wanted to shout at Merlin to leave and to get to safety, that he had no hope against Morgause or Cenred. They had weapons. They had henchmen. This was their territory; they knew the layout. Merlin couldn't do this by himself -- Gwaine wasn't enough. Where were all the FBI agents Arthur had seen swarming at the university? Shouldn't they be here, raiding the place, putting a stop to this?

That was when it dawned on Arthur that they must be somewhere. That they were waiting. They couldn't do anything as long as Arthur was in danger. Gwaine must have somehow convinced his superiors to give Merlin a chance to save Arthur in the same way Gwaine had convinced them to let Merlin save his snakes.

But what _could_ Merlin do?

"You," Cenred said, his tone hollow with recognition.

Arthur understood. He saw what it was that was different in Merlin. It was anger. Danger. Ruthlessness. Gone was the eccentric, meme-loving professor with the quirky smile and dry sense of humour. Merlin was…

This was someone else. A different side to Merlin that Arthur probably would never have seen if not for the circumstances they were in. He felt he should be afraid, but there was something wrong with him, because he couldn't help but crave _this_ Merlin like nothing else.

"You speak of the strength of faith." Merlin reached out and flicked a switch on the catwalk. The motor rumbled and the long arm of the Tee descended from the middle of the catwalk. "Prove yours."

Cenred wavered. He glanced between Gwaine and Merlin. His expression hardened, and he sneered, "You first."

Merlin barked a little laugh. 

"You don't know. She didn't tell you," Merlin said, glancing between Cenred and Morgause with curious appraisal. His tone turned gleeful, at Cenred's confusion. "She didn't tell you about _me_."

Cenred was silent for a moment, stupefied; he turned toward Morgause, but she scurried away instead, hissing. Merlin's laugh broke the tension, and when he climbed up the short step to the catwalk, Will took his place, blocking the way.

The people who hadn't already left the area when they heard Gwaine's accusation -- _Eau de Conman_ \-- were leaving now, moving on stiff legs and rubbernecks, the crowd as a whole leaving in a slow ripple of wanting to get away from the train wreck that could ruin their lives while simultaneously wanting to stick around a little longer to witness the actual crash.

Not all of them moved to leave. There were a handful who remained, leaning heavily against the pipe railing, arms crossed before them, their attention intense and inscrutable. They were older men and women bearing sagacity in their white hair and wrinkles, Elders of the church who must have decided to witness justice done for the attempt to defraud them.

Arthur looked back to see Merlin stripping out of his shirt. There wasn't anything sexy about it, no involved seduction, only a revelation of scarred snakebites on an otherwise perfect canvas. Morgause hissed and tried to leave, stopping short when Gwaine trained a gun on her. Cenred stared so blankly at Merlin, that Arthur wondered if he knew what he was looking at.

But Arthur did. He understood it, now. All those bite scars were testament to Merlin's power over snakes.

"You don't get to do this. Lies and deceit. Using the innocent for your own profit," Merlin said, his voice a low, frightening rumble. "Not to them. Not to anyone. I can be merciful, but there's one thing I cannot abide.”

"You took what's mine."

Merlin swept a hand down the catwalk, inviting Cenred to descend. Cenred moved forward as if mesmerized, his hands white-knuckled on the railing as he managed the steep incline. He stopped shy of reaching the ground, looking around nervously for a clear spot. Merlin followed him, moving with languid grace, and at his approach, the snakes… _shifted_ , clearing a path, moving away, even slithering over each other in a messy, coiled swarm.

Merlin pushed Cenred down the ramp and onto the ground, Cenred fighting every step but acting as if it was his own idea to descend. Merlin moved past Cenred and knelt beside Arthur. Arthur grabbed Merlin as soon as he was near enough, clutching to him for dear life.

"Can you stand?" Merlin asked. He touched Arthur's cheek with so much tenderness that Arthur wondered how Merlin could be capable of the rage he was showing now. Merlin was giving him all the time in the world, but Arthur guessed that Merlin wanted to deal with the situation, just not with him there.

Because he didn't want Arthur to see what he was about to do.

Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to see it. He swallowed hard and nodded. Merlin helped him up and waited, supporting him easily.

Arthur's legs were rubbery from sitting on them for so long. Pins and needles prickled painfully as the circulation in his legs was restored, and he nodded to Merlin, who helped him to the stairs but didn't follow him up. Arthur stopped halfway and looked back, intending to… He wasn't sure what he intended. Maybe to tell Merlin that he didn't have to do whatever he planned to do. Maybe to come back down and stand with Merlin, regardless of the outcome.

Merlin seemed to understand, because his expression softened for a minuscule moment. He shook his head. _Please go_ , he seemed to say. _Let me do this._

Arthur nodded. He turned and walked up the stairs. Will gestured him over, and Arthur obeyed, though he never took his eyes from Merlin. As soon as Arthur was off the catwalk, Will put him aside, clapping a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. You're safe now. Merlin will handle this."

"Send her down," Merlin ordered, gesturing toward Morgause.

Gwaine advanced, gun raised, gesturing subtly with his gun. Morgause moved back quickly, her arm reaching behind her. "Ah-ah-ah," Gwaine warned. "Hands to your side. Turn around."

Gwaine took a gun from Morgause, though Arthur wasn't where it had been hiding. Gwaine shoved Morgause down the ramp, blocking any escape, and when Morgause finally reached the bottom, Will tapped the controls and the ramp rose, creaky and rickety.

"All right, let's go," Gwaine said, holstering his gun. He joined Arthur and Will on the other side. "We don't want to see this."

"But --" Arthur glanced at the Elders lingering along the railing, stone-faced and impassive. Trousers, jeans, a business suit. Skirts, slacks, an evening dress. Hair done up, parted in the middle, slicked back with pomade. They stood out from the other Believers because they didn't _believe_. They knew.

They weren't Church Elders. Arthur had no idea who they were or where they had come from, but he had the distinct impression that they were here to pass judgment.

"No, man. He's right. You really don't want to know what he's going to do," Will said.

Arthur hesitated. He watched Merlin.

Merlin was speaking, but the words weren't words, not ones that Arthur could understand. They were low and whispering, hushed by a sibilant hiss, made powerful by a rumbling that took root in the marrow of Arthur's bones. Dizzying, mesmerizing, hypnotic, Arthur felt himself drawn forward, just like the snakes that uncoiled from their swirling masses and scattered, spreading out, moving toward Merlin.

Merlin crouched.

A single snake separated from the coiled mass. It was large, long, with familiar diamondback markings, a narrow neck, a broad head. The snake went toward Merlin's outstretched hands, coiling up and around his arms until it was perched across Merlin's shoulders.

Its tail shook, and the rattle was the tinkle of bone against bone, the promise of death and destruction.

 

 

"Fucking Kilgharrah," Will muttered. "And he wonders why the dumb snake freaks me out. Come on. We shouldn't be here for this."

Arthur let himself be pulled away, though he watched Merlin for as long as he could. 

Merlin looked up at him, and Arthur's heart stuttered.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold.

 

_Blessed be the faithful to the Great Mother Earth; blessed be who stand guard against those who would threaten the virtuous and pure. For they will come, blasphemers all, to raze and burn, to corrupt and condemn. The Serpent Tribe is the salvation against the corrupt, for no poison there infects, no stronger magic can exist, and their judgment is just, final, and permanent.  
_

Glainn Colunn, _Sacred Texts of Ireland_  


__  


 

 

"Oh! Wait, you two!" Elena called out.

Arthur grimaced. He nudged Merlin with his hip in an attempt to urge him to the door, but hurrying helped absolutely no one when they were trying to tie their shoes. Merlin hopped on one foot until he banged against the wall in a helpless flail for balance.

"We have to hurry, or we'll never leave," Arthur hissed.

"Was that really necessary?" Merlin said, his shoe finally tied. "She probably just wants to give you more pie."

A year ago, maybe Arthur's mouth would have started watering at the mere hint that Elena might have a pie to spare, willing to give Arthur a slice without his having to beg, plead, or threaten. But since realizing that she wasn't getting worse like she kept expecting, and after getting yet another battery of tests that completely cleared her of her original diagnosis, Elena had been showing up at the Pendragon-Emrys household with fresh baked goods on a weekly basis.

She said it was because she was thankful -- for her health, for her friends, for the care she'd received. But Arthur had noticed Elena's thoughtful looks when she watched Merlin, and he couldn't help wondering if she'd figured out that Merlin had been the cure behind her miraculous recovery.

If she'd come to that conclusion, she wasn't saying anything. And the pies kept coming.

"I don't want more pie," Arthur hissed. He was getting _fat_. Arthur refused to start buying his scrubs in a larger size.

Merlin snorted. He ran a hand down Arthur's back and made a quiet, reassuring sound. "I'll bring it to work, tell everyone you bought it for them. Freya are starting to warm up to you because of the pies."

"Hallelujah." Arthur snorted. He and Mordred had become close friends, but Freya remained cool and aloof no matter what Arthur did.

Merlin laughed softly.

"Pie!" Elena announced, sweeping around the corner. Arthur was relieved to only see one box of pie in her hand this time. She kissed his cheek. "I'll bring the rest tomorrow."

"Oh God," Arthur said before he could stop himself. Merlin covered his mouth to hide his smile. "I mean, _thank God_. I was running out."

"You'll never run out as long as I'm around," Elena promised, and leaned over to kiss Merlin's cheek. She wiped her lipstick from his cheek with a thumb. "Say hello to Will."

"Should I tell him you've changed your mind?" Merlin asked.

"The answer is still no," Elena said. Will was head over heels in love with her, but he had problems expressing his interest in an adult-appropriate way. Merlin thought that Will was wearing her down, but Arthur was sure that Elena would turn him into a proper gentleman before that happened. "Now go and rescue him."

"Thanks for dinner, Elena. It was great. Sorry again. Maybe one day, Will will figure out that Kilgarrah's just playing with him," Merlin said, lying easily. Will had called earlier, but more to give them an excuse to leave early. Tonight was important, and Arthur could barely hold back his excitement, pulling Merlin through the door. He raised his voice. "Goodnight, everyone!"

"Goodnight!" came the chorus from inside. Lance appeared at the other end of the corridor; waving a hesitant good-bye. He'd never been the same since the night Morgause kidnapped Arthur, always taking pains to check on everyone before they left. Arthur appreciated the concern, but there was no way he could convince his friends and family that he was fine.

He glanced at Merlin with a small smile. He was _more_ than fine. No matter what, he knew that Merlin would protect him.

The official cover story was that Gwaine had abused government resources to locate and liberate Arthur, who had been kidnapped and tortured. Merlin's snakes had likewise been recovered, but of Cenred and Morgause, there had been no sign. 

It wasn't far from the truth. Gwaine _had_ received a tongue-lashing for not waiting for the proper warrants and for entering the warehouse without backup. Beyond that, there had been no mention of the Pentecostals who had nearly been swindled. The other snakes in the pit, the ones that hadn't been stolen from Merlin, had been moved before the FBI descended to sweep the building for evidence and clues. Merlin and Will had never been there, and Cenred and Morgause…

Everyone might think that Cenred and Morgause had gotten away and that Arthur was haunted by the possibility that they'd come after him again, but Arthur knew better. He might not have seen what Merlin had done to his kidnappers, but he'd had a year to witness Merlin's power, his _magic_ for himself.

Anyone else would be terrified of Merlin. Even the Elders in the Tribe regarded Merlin with cautious respect. Arthur didn't have that same fear. He could watch Merlin punish wrongdoers forever. He was beautiful in his ruthlessness.

"Love you two," Elena said.

Arthur returned her smile and waved good-bye. He walked arm in arm with Merlin to the elevator, balancing the pie in one hand. The elevator doors opened, they walked inside, and Merlin pressed the button for the lobby.

"Don't drop the pie," Merlin whispered, his voice lowering to that slow, seductive tone that Arthur couldn't help but obey. 

Merlin pressed Arthur against the wall. A kiss distracted Arthur from the pull of the cashmere scarf around his throat, the yank of his jacket being pulled open. Arthur returned Merlin's kiss hungrily, gasping as Merlin's fingers trailed possessively over the most initiation bite on Arthur's collarbone. It was still healing, still tender, but electric current shot through Arthur whenever Merlin touched that spot.

Arthur tilted his head up, grabbed Merlin's hip tightly, and struggled to remember the rule -- _don't drop the pie_. He closed his eyes as Merlin's teeth raked down his throat, desperate to feel another bite on his skin.

Wide and broad with human teeth. Sharp and piercing like the fangs of a snake. Arthur didn't care _how_ Merlin bit him. He loved the feeling all the same.

The elevator doors _ding_ ed open. Someone stepped in and coughed pointedly. Arthur and Merlin broke apart, trading looks and completely unembarrassed grins. They courteously allowed the other passenger to exit first when they arrived in the lobby. Arthur's fingers twined with Merlin's as they walked out and to the car.

"Do we need to stop at the lab first?" Arthur asked, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

"Nervous?" Merlin flashed him a wry look. 

"I just want to do well. I want tonight to go well," Arthur murmured.

"It will. It _will_. You're perfect," Merlin said, his eyes glancing at Arthur's collarbone. The bite was covered up again, but Arthur felt Kilgarrah's bite anew, brutal and hard, as if Merlin had awakened the memory and emotion of Arthur's initiation into the Tribe.

"There's nothing we need to get? You know how you forget things," Arthur said gently. As powerful as Merlin was, he was still the adorable, dorky professor that Arthur loved.

"Everything's sorted." Merlin's eyes rimmed gold. "I took Kilgharrah to the Tribe already. My dad's making sure he's settled. Will is bringing Aithusa so that she can learn how to take Kilgharrah's place when he's too old. There's nothing to worry about. You'll be fine."

Aithusa was an albino spiny bush viper, a too-young baby snake born under terrible conditions, surviving only because of Merlin's attention and Arthur's fascination. She had been found with the other snakes Cenred and Morgause had stolen. While most of the snakes went to the Tribe for caretaking, Aithusa had remained with Merlin.

Now that he knew how to look for it, Arthur could sense Aithusa's power. It was as strong as Kilgharrah's magic, and she would eclipse him, soon. The Tribe believed it best if she remained with Merlin, since he might be the only one capable of bending her power to his will.

When Aithusa was fully grown, Merlin would take his role as High Priest in the Tribe. Mordred and Freya's training accelerated to prepare them when they were anointed as Merlin's Acolytes, while Will, Gwaine and Percival, who was Gwaine's husband, would become Merlin's Disciples.

Arthur had been disappointed not to be included until he discovered that Merlin had another role in mind for him -- as Consort.

A smile stretched across Arthur's lips, helpless and happy. He couldn't wait.

"I'm not worried," Arthur said, leaning in to steal a kiss. "I know you'll save me."


End file.
